October's Child

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 A  PHONE CALL TOO LATE


Fog brooded heavy in the weeping willow trees
She sat on a bench, a tattered wrap on her knees
Traffic lights swinging in morning's acrid breeze
He dialed her number feeling really ill at ease
He wanted to appeal, he needed the appease

Answering the phone she heard a muffled sound
He sensed her hate, her voice portrayed a frown
She cried the day that he didn't turn around
A weary body sleeping on life's barren ground
The once noble man now left without his crown

He began to rise up inside his cigarette smoke
Years of bitterness, he wore em like a joke
Dylan's Johanna, had wrapped him in a cloak
He heard her crying with every word he'd spoke
Her world he'd painted in colors blue and broke

No need to search within the roots of your mind
Tho' digging down deeper will allow you to find
There's nothing here, you left her behind
Don't turn around friend, just adjust and resign
Your promises tainted your words so maligned

Someone tore my mind down, a long time ago
It's getting cold outside, now starting to snow
You're drowning my friend in a turbulent flow
Plant not in vain for you'll reap what you sow
Somewhere in time, is this called skid row?


trop retard

September 04, 2008







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