“Fore!”
I live in a small town,
With the lights down,
In the back end of nowhere
And that is exactly where I am going.
I dress like a big clown,
In my small car.
My head looks through the sunroof
And all I can see is a city of stars.
I have spent a lifetime pretending,
That I am going to leave this place.
Everybody can see that I don’t really care.
My apathy only hides my truth; my life is such a waste.
As the rain drops fall onto my window,
I hear the distant memories.
They are calling to me like angels;
I can’t see where they are, but they are all around me.
So I reach out with one big shout!
Begging for protection, from myself.
My remedy is not seen, so I sink into a hole.
If I could find a way out,
I would find a way to make something of myself.
A collage of emotional scars,
That show that I have come so far.
The pavement my driveway,
I turn left into yesterday
And all I remember is the loss of it all;
The things we do are what we are.
I walk on the freeway.
The grass is green beneath my feet…
They shout “Fore!”…
My headphones do not rescue me.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 12:34 PM UTC
“Fore!”
I live in a small town,
With the lights down,
In the back end of nowhere
And that is exactly where I am going.
I dress like a big clown,
In my small car.
My head looks through the sunroof
And all I can see is a city of stars.
I have spent a lifetime pretending,
That I am going to leave this place.
Everybody can see that I don’t really care.
My apathy only hides my truth; my life is such a waste.
As the rain drops fall onto my window,
I hear the distant memories.
They are calling to me like angels;
I can’t see where they are, but they are all around me.
So I reach out with one big shout!
Begging for protection, from myself.
My remedy is not seen, so I sink into a hole.
If I could find a way out,
I would find a way to make something of myself.
A collage of emotional scars,
That show that I have come so far.
The pavement my driveway,
I turn left into yesterday
And all I remember is the loss of it all;
The things we do are what we are.
I walk on the freeway.
The grass is green beneath my feet…
They shout “Fore!”…
My headphones do not rescue me.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
