Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Curves (This Is The Place)

This is the place 
It's where I joined the human race
The shag pile, mission, open face
Bricks, pull strings, lips, hip sliding things 

Shiny vinyl paints the scene
The organ fills the in-betweens
We're 3 and 5, he's 1, ears keen 
The melody's a breeze and life's the seas

Explanation's made of words
But life's made up of curves
As I shape a clay triceratops 
A best that I will never top
Or so it seems, but always in my dreams
I'll chase the black and gold and fly 
And hope to never wave goodbye

This is the place
It's where I left the human race
Cracked concrete bumps against the trolley base
As weight, with aches, threatens to break 

A grey mist paints the scene
An underground of in-betweens
Games, red, fire, roasts, the Island Queens
Music saves past's slaves, then sends me over waves

Explanation's made of words
But life's made up of curves
I considered which line looked the best
So why that one and not the rest?
My Queen, the one always in my dreams 
We'll chase the black and gold and fly
And hope to never wave goodbye 

But when we do, I'll cherish every moment spent with you.

No comments:

Post a Comment