Ninety stories high... that was along time ago... |
Up and down the straight black tar, She's got a back pack on her shoulder that's held together with silver tape. The wind turned her hair into a wisteria but she's beyond care... There's a car in the background. A driver's dogging her steps. He keeps calling out for her to listen, But she smiles and keeps going. She's a part of the river that's never stopped. There's a boy in her mind. He rides his feet and has a lopsided smile. He lives on a bench in NYC. She'll see him if she gets there. But til then it's a bumpy road to nowhere. She's got blisters on her feet from walking. The engine conked out some way back. She'd never going home. Not for all the times gone past. There's a plaster in her back pocket. She can still see him on his bench; By a fountain outside the Barnes&Noble on fifty something. He'll be listening to Debussy de la Mer. He's like that... She wonder's if his heart had time to mend. That boy's in her mind. He rides his feet and has a lopsided smile. He lives on a bend in NYC. She'll see him if she ever gets there. But til then it's a bumpy road to nowhere. Time will only tell if her lover's died. Or at least gotten over her. She smiles and keeps on going because nothing that good could last forever. So she's on her bumpy ride to nowhere And maybe he'll be there when he gets there. - 22.09.07 |