i see no ense in winning, as all success becomes regression,
owning ones life is to reach out and grasp and to catch only the wind.
strange, it is cars that bring faceless names and namless faces
closer to their finale in life than to where really we want to be
we hold a wheel, we push a pedal, it makes no difference.
inside ourselves we may be Lords, Kings even Gods and
here you see me in the world, on the half deserted streets
conjuring myths of control, no apparent ceiling to clothe my limits
no surprises with no mystery. no questions with no unpredictable answers, what a way to live.
safety rules this day, caution covertly dictates my speech,
the fear that I may stumble upon my dreams and realise them unfulfilled
takes my feet and nails them down.
i am a tree, rooted heavily into this soil
here I stand and weep for all that is stained with routine.
all that is tragically familiar comes forth alone and alone it remains with me.