Saturday, 25 May 2013

There are no answers

As the house faded into the night,
And I turned the corner onto another street
Couldn't help but wonder why my heart beat so cold
And my dry eyes counted the miles on the odometer
As the next town sign lights up in the headlights
Couldn't help but wonder, "Why?"
Because why is an open ended question, and there are no answers

What do you want from me?

Derailed conversations and awkward silences
And the pretence of art
Knowing glances are not enough, but the ignorance
Of silver screen moments and the cold space, a no man's land
Perched like bookends on an empty shelf
Couldn't help but wonder, "Why?"
Because why is an open ended question, and there are no answers

What do you want from me?

Scores from an unknown orchestra play those treacly ballads
In the barren theatre inside my mind
And the centre line on the highway hypnotises
Pull over at a rest stop under a sky haphazardly painted with tinsel stars
To implore those heavenly pin pricks of my choices
Couldn't help but wonder, "Why?"
Because why is an open ended question, and there are no answers

What do you want from me?

Dawn, gold and red in the eastern fringes
I wonder what dreams you have had tonight
My sleep is without such visions, desolate, blank
No painter works that canvas
It's too much to ponder grief in and out of consciousness
So I forego this perpetual need to wonder, "Why?"
Because why is a hurtful question and the answer is a twisted knife

I can't help but wonder
What do you want from me?