Hair pulled back into a pony tail,
she walks the crowd not being seen,
everything she tries and fails,
at least to her, that's the way it seems.
Lost in the groove of guitar town,
tries covering up the fear with *****,
when everyone laughs and smiles, she frowns,
in the middle of the night you must choose.
A tune drifts in from the alley
a beautiful voice slurrs.
In this place their are no winners,
only people just trying to get by,
the holier than thou are still sinners,
and even fallen angels long to fly.
Death pursues us all,
no matter how we run,
so just hear my call,
and try to have some fun.
She search's through the mist,
for the man who sings the song,
but the alleyway is empty
but she knew this all along.
She tightrope walks sanity,
though she hears them all,
not understanding, but giving into vanity,
she dresses herself up, and heeds the call.
All alone she stands,
in pools of neon light,
she walks into the bar,
with the open mic.
And she sings.
In this place their are no winners,
only people just trying to get by,
the holier than thou are still sinners,
and even fallen angels long to fly.
Death pursues us all,
no matter how we run,
so just hear my call,
and try to have some fun.
Inspired by Round Here, by the Counting Crows