Fallen people are the common ground,
Relentless pursuits of no avail,
Desperate illusions of a promised land,
Flaying limbs no hands that join,
No hope no help no heaven;
Falling people screaming without a sound.

With one foot in and one foot out the door
I'm always one to keep another waiting.
Now the coffee's cold and I'm left contemplating
if anything at all's worth waiting for.

Why let this moment drown in expectation?
Now is not the time and we both know
to ask for any sort of explanation
is to ask for more than you or I would owe.

Half past one my foolish heart still races
every time the entry doorbell chimes.
This city, home to seven million faces,
could disappoint me seven million times.

Ah please understand
I didn't say what I wanted to say
Because I didn’t know
If it was the right thing to say

Now I know
And it’s too late

A photographer
Arriving past the golden hour
Loses the last ray of light and
Returns empty handed