Dusty men parade through the streets like royal soldiers in July, I wander these streets, searching for who knows what hell knows where,
the cobbled street creeps under my feet and im on the hunt for something. im sure I just don’t know what it is,
white headphones and thoughts that circle through the sub way underground passages and tunnels lead to other tunnels and escalators that take us up passageways and alley ways, we make eye contact on the tube, she looks I look, she smiles I smile but no word come out, the chick chick chick of the train and im left speechless and then the doors open and she vanishes and the whole way home I think of all the other worlds of all the words that I wanted to say but couldn’t wouldn’t and won’t ever get the chance to say to her,
and then she’s gone and only a memory left on this page, at this stage I should give it up but my heart beats more and more for that feeling of bliss, a kiss from her lips that reach out and warm up my body on this cold April day, it doesn’t go away that flame that burns and we yearn for touches of angels that have no wings that tell us they get us, they get this, they know what it is that is, and what is what and how its meant to be, but then maybe we never really know and I walk up hills and see my reflection in the shop windows of bookstores and fashion stores and people walk like its Sunday and it is Sunday and one day I wont walk alone anymore but right now when you want to write when you want to have no one to answer too its ok,
because when you’re alone you hear yourself and no one else.
no whispers in your ear. no one to tell you anything you don’t want to know or don’t want to disagree with, and the streets as I walk I can’t feel how tired I am in my legs cause the rush of being here just keeps me going and every stop I get off at I feel like it’s the first time I have been here,
and its all fresh and London has an energy that you cant really touch but you feel it as you walk through Soho at 5pm when the sun is out and you feel it when you walk on Regent st and the swarms of people just keep swarming and if you bend down to tie your laces you might just get walked over, the beats of the city and heartbeats and bus stops and grey skies then blues skies and grey walls and its mixture of everything and anything and it’s the gate way to the world and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now and maybe soon you’re reflection will be seen with mine as soon I build up the courage to actually look at you and say what I want to say without a hundred pairs of eyes watching me trying to talk to you on a crowded tube at 7am, the timing is right when its right and tonight we’ll fight on and maybe we’ll see you in the morning or tomorrow or sometime then,
but until that day I can only hope that you’re there somewhere thinking of all the things you maybe wanted to say to me, but we’ll see we’ll just wait and see shall we?
the cobbled street creeps under my feet and im on the hunt for something. im sure I just don’t know what it is,
white headphones and thoughts that circle through the sub way underground passages and tunnels lead to other tunnels and escalators that take us up passageways and alley ways, we make eye contact on the tube, she looks I look, she smiles I smile but no word come out, the chick chick chick of the train and im left speechless and then the doors open and she vanishes and the whole way home I think of all the other worlds of all the words that I wanted to say but couldn’t wouldn’t and won’t ever get the chance to say to her,
and then she’s gone and only a memory left on this page, at this stage I should give it up but my heart beats more and more for that feeling of bliss, a kiss from her lips that reach out and warm up my body on this cold April day, it doesn’t go away that flame that burns and we yearn for touches of angels that have no wings that tell us they get us, they get this, they know what it is that is, and what is what and how its meant to be, but then maybe we never really know and I walk up hills and see my reflection in the shop windows of bookstores and fashion stores and people walk like its Sunday and it is Sunday and one day I wont walk alone anymore but right now when you want to write when you want to have no one to answer too its ok,
because when you’re alone you hear yourself and no one else.
no whispers in your ear. no one to tell you anything you don’t want to know or don’t want to disagree with, and the streets as I walk I can’t feel how tired I am in my legs cause the rush of being here just keeps me going and every stop I get off at I feel like it’s the first time I have been here,
and its all fresh and London has an energy that you cant really touch but you feel it as you walk through Soho at 5pm when the sun is out and you feel it when you walk on Regent st and the swarms of people just keep swarming and if you bend down to tie your laces you might just get walked over, the beats of the city and heartbeats and bus stops and grey skies then blues skies and grey walls and its mixture of everything and anything and it’s the gate way to the world and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now and maybe soon you’re reflection will be seen with mine as soon I build up the courage to actually look at you and say what I want to say without a hundred pairs of eyes watching me trying to talk to you on a crowded tube at 7am, the timing is right when its right and tonight we’ll fight on and maybe we’ll see you in the morning or tomorrow or sometime then,
but until that day I can only hope that you’re there somewhere thinking of all the things you maybe wanted to say to me, but we’ll see we’ll just wait and see shall we?
