a waking morning, cold and fresh
headlights flashing, drawing lines
the city’s pulsing beat, strong and clear
take me along and be my guide
through tall grey buildings
in front of painted blue and reddish skies
a dream of dreams, of things to do
will we ever finish them all?
still we’ll get done what needs to be done
and not what we want, that’s clear
so empty your coffee and grab your things
and walk through desert silent valleys
in a city that also never sleeps
light a cigarette and feel the rain
coming down in small drops of hope
waking nature to let it bloom
like it was spring only that it’s not
but do you think it wouldn’t know?
because everyone else knows exactly what to do
though I never cease to wonder
with what ease the rain falls down
only to fall again tomorrow
the minutes get longer and longer
as we stand here and wait for elevation
and even when it’s time to go
do we use the best train to move along?
cold lights, clinically, bright, flashing in the dark
and shifting streets of dark proportions
shadows looming where light will soon fill oh-so little gaps
blue skies fading out of windless distance
while happy little clouds are never alone
I guess it’s time again to stroll on
and see what kind of morning this will become