Aug 2017
There’s an old run down house
On the corner of the street 5 blocks down
They say you can hear the angels sing
Singing songs
And I drove past it the other day
But all I could hear was the sound of the radio
Playing songs of the past
Maybe this is what they meant
And she walks around handing out daisies for a pound
Smelling of washing powder and soap
Loaning people compliments as well
Which is their’s to choose if they keep it
Or see it as another false statement
A reason to give her a half smile and then walk on
The streets keep whispering
Ghosts roam them too
A little girl was here just the other day
Who decided that life was just another game
That she had grown tired of playing
At only sixteen, drink and drugs seemed like the best choice
And each cigarette that she well knew took a day away from her life
Was a sweet kiss of relief in her eyes
He sits on the sandy banks of the river
Guitar in hand, this is what he does for a living
Playing music to strangers
Because in his head, a song can make all the difference to the day
Rain doesn’t stop him because he knows
And if you keep looking in the corners of these concrete jungles
You’ll find letters written
From lovers
And from people trying to search for something
But who got lost on the way and no longer know
What they’re looking for
You’ll hear the people in the walls of the Church
Spilling gospel off their tongues
Trying to paint the walls with art and words from their Holy Book
Which gives them all strength to stand and sing on
Even if underneath they’re breaking bones
Each four compass points
Are meant to direct you
But In some ways even if we know the right way to go
We’re all still wandering on
We all have our aims
But our limbs are getting sore
Yet we keep walking and striding on
If you look up into the sky at night
You’re met with a billion other eyes
Yet none of us can see
None of us can feel
That we’re not alone
Unless someone’s hand is wrapped in ours
We adore this false sense of hope
That living amongst all this material
We can try and make something
Out of all the scraps
To try and fulfill our unknown roles
That comes with existing on Earth
And we keep searching for a meaning
In this God forsaken world
It keeps turning and spinning under our feet
But we never stop to try and feel it
On the corner of the street 5 blocks down
They say you can hear the angels sing
Singing songs
And I drove past it the other day
But all I could hear was the sound of the radio
Playing songs of the past
Maybe this is what they meant
And she walks around handing out daisies for a pound
Smelling of washing powder and soap
Loaning people compliments as well
Which is their’s to choose if they keep it
Or see it as another false statement
A reason to give her a half smile and then walk on
The streets keep whispering
Ghosts roam them too
A little girl was here just the other day
Who decided that life was just another game
That she had grown tired of playing
At only sixteen, drink and drugs seemed like the best choice
And each cigarette that she well knew took a day away from her life
Was a sweet kiss of relief in her eyes
He sits on the sandy banks of the river
Guitar in hand, this is what he does for a living
Playing music to strangers
Because in his head, a song can make all the difference to the day
Rain doesn’t stop him because he knows
And if you keep looking in the corners of these concrete jungles
You’ll find letters written
From lovers
And from people trying to search for something
But who got lost on the way and no longer know
What they’re looking for
You’ll hear the people in the walls of the Church
Spilling gospel off their tongues
Trying to paint the walls with art and words from their Holy Book
Which gives them all strength to stand and sing on
Even if underneath they’re breaking bones
Each four compass points
Are meant to direct you
But In some ways even if we know the right way to go
We’re all still wandering on
We all have our aims
But our limbs are getting sore
Yet we keep walking and striding on
If you look up into the sky at night
You’re met with a billion other eyes
Yet none of us can see
None of us can feel
That we’re not alone
Unless someone’s hand is wrapped in ours
We adore this false sense of hope
That living amongst all this material
We can try and make something
Out of all the scraps
To try and fulfill our unknown roles
That comes with existing on Earth
And we keep searching for a meaning
In this God forsaken world
It keeps turning and spinning under our feet
But we never stop to try and feel it
