What you miss, when it's there,
you can never get back.
Like an arm and a leg in a price attack.
It's not a game for the weak,
or a win for the strong,
but a story that goes on,
on and on.
Had you stayed,
you may have what I'm hoping for.
Like a war that you win
staying off the floor.
Give me plans,
I'm the man for strategy,
and in the end I get my lucidity.

Its all words in my head
I need something
playing me like I hear it.
Over again I hear it'
Over again.

It's all clay this way.
I'm not doing a sign
that'll stick, stick ,anytime I'm done
with the sadness, badness.
Make me wrong
when I'm given the vision of time gone,
so long.
Pick me up, get me up,
yea anytime
for a chance at the window,
wishing on.
The blame, all the same,
for going underground,
is me missin missin the turnaround.

Lucid is as lucid does.
Don't turn around.
You don't have the kind of luxury
that dreaming does.

Poetry by nice curtains
Read 266 times
Written on 2009-06-06 at 06:36

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email
dott Print text

To be real and pragmatic
creating and grabbing opportunities,
what a hectic and demanding life we live.
Thanks for sharing.