The sound of voices strokes my soul,
The ups the downs,
The enunciation,
The rumble fuels my love of life,
Their stories excite me about mine,
There's something magical about a mind,
That's thought, that's pained, that's pondered time,
Expressing a ladder,
For me to climb.

The shopper spins webs as he stumbles by the glass
A mind of fraught ideas seen from an overpass
"This neon doesn't know me, it wastes its time and energy"
He hums and dreams of an escape, and moral victory

But that which he wanted was gone, their greed had bought it all
Following the voices, to the lit up cubicle

All the rage it built in his spine, as it boiled away unsaid
Hypotheses are often, clearer in our heads

I wonder what tonight will bring,
My first time at your house,
I'm sat here pondering the scene,
Oh will this fire be doused,
Perhaps I need to be the optimist,
And believe everything will go,
Just how I've dreamed for two days now,
Dancing toe to toe

I can’t remember the last time
I saw a white cloud
Used to lie in the grass and make designs
While their delicate lines I browsed

But now all that’s left are these grey skies
The ashes float like leaves
I’m not sure what they disguise
Perhaps someone’s memories

The gunshots I heard the other day
The only signs of life
I can’t stop thinking of the dichotomy
They likely came as someone died

Wise white trees in the light breeze crack
Like staccato existential cries
The branches they fall to the dried tracks
As if leading me to a surprise

I walk the country I’ve not seen a soul
For thousands of hours now
All I have for company is the sound as I stroll
And these songs that have come to me somehow

The birdsong has long since gone
Now I just wake to the wind
It used to whistle its way through the corn
Now it just howls in sin

I stumble on and look for food
But it’s harder and harder to find
To my death these houses now allude
Abandoned and for everything mined

There’s a metal silo in the distance
It clangs and it creaks
The optimist hears offers of assistance
Though I know the outlook is bleak

I walk around, someone’s already been
Piles of empty tins of beans
I kick them at a figurine,
What the hell do my actions mean?

I walk the country I’ve not seen a soul
For thousands of hours now
All I have for company is the sound as I stroll
And these songs that have come to me somehow

The sound ricochets across the room,
Waves upon waves,
Phasing, fuzzing, building,
The hall echoes with feeling,
My skin absorbs the notes,
They swim through my blood,
They fill my heart,
And there through the window,
I see light.

Today my dream shattered before my eyes:

They didn't listen,
I wasn't fun,
Who is this robotic person
I've become.

We all know the darkness,
We've all felt the light,
We all want some peace at night

We're all born into different situations,
But feel the same things

Liquid sparkles clear,
Drops skip off our paddles,
The island's in the distance,
I hear your breath.

I stood out on the beach listening to Runaway and I have never felt so lost.
So utterly, gloriously lost.
The waves splashed before me in the dark, though I could barely make them out.
The lights flashed reassuringly in the distance.
The mountains invited me, I was a speck of dust in the glorious universe.
A pin-***** of matter in an explosion of stars.
A thing without meaning.
A physical entity with no home.