MiSsing f iles
MiSsing f iles
of just a story
I'm on Lonely Street age nearly three......confused and addicted to crying
over the slapping of the breeze that
keeps me moving........ looking for
something and not knowing what-------striving to reach the table yet falling
apart-----------Seventeen and strung out on confusion Trapped inside a
roll of
disillusion-----------same old tree that I no more dare to climb and
yet falling
down
harder-------------maybe trying to
fly though you always told me That
in
your cage there's no bird Who can fly And you know That I just found
it Some
of them just can fly -------so I spread the wings that I don't have and fly not for
real---------I'm on Lonely Street age nearly forty-three---
----gue$$ there's not much to happen cause-----
I'm not growing up, i'm just burning out
And I stepped in line to walk amongs the dead
NOW!
And once again I'm 17 but that don't matter I guess because we might meet tomorrow when I'm 23 and tomorrow may actually come this Friday and then this web page won't mean a thing. So 17 is actually the age of this web page. If I update it it might grow up but as for now I like it young, sweet and naive.