Sabtu, 03 November 2012

In this city

I’ve got big eyes that want to see this world
And small ears that strain to soak up all they can
I live in house painted white
On a busy street
In a busy city
And every day I see people peddling their souls
Up and down my street
I look out my window and see the men sitting on the bend
Night and day they’re always there
On the bench that faces the park
I don’t know what they talk about
But I imagine they’re telling stories
Stories of life
Illustrated by each wrinkle on their face
And each callus on their hand
Those hands have worked hard
And haven’t gotten very far
But far is what we tell it to be
And they may go much much further than me.