A distant ship's smoke on, the horizon
You are only coming through in waves
Your lips move, but
I can't hear what you're saying
When I was a child
I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown
The dream is gone
And IIIIII… have become
Confortably numb.
No comments:
Post a Comment