Where do you go from here…

Where are all the lights slow down

Where are we when we’re feeling down

When are your sounds going to move town

Oh, and when will they stop being so down


On this day so sad

Fed to death of being glad

And of course molded like plastic clay bag

Sat longing and dreaming

That which I used to have


Stepping stones one at a time

Piecing memories together to the rhythm of your rhyme

Anticipation of lack of time

And counting…


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