In A City

[dwim]

In A City

I want to walk the streets that you walk.
Anywhere's better than here, where
life is lived according to
the whims of the days and
responsibilities. I dwell with
the thoughts of you and the ducks
in the park, as you've told me
in our correspondence.

Now I'm writing back to say
that I'd walk the streets with you,
even in the pouring rain. Together,
we'd stroll past the music store
where you've found all the rare vinyls
and worn out tapes of old bands
who gave out against time and
are now considered hypocrites. We'd
sit for a rest on that bench where
I'd watch you admire your
brand new treasures.

I'm telling you that I'd
walk the streets with you because
I've never wanted to end up like them:
The unknown people from my memory
who stood on a city corner, hunched over
with hands in their pockets, defeated
by this life and the system. The same
people who stood there everyday,
just watching the cars go by and
I vowed that I'd never
become like them.

So I'd walk the streets with you,
even in the pouring rain, if that
would be what it takes for you
to know that you'd never be alone
in this bloodystupidshit world. That I
would be the one to tell you:
I dream of being a rich bum and
you'd tell me that you would become
a gypsy, telling fortunes and
all the prophecies would come true.

[Branflakes]

I like this. It has a smooth rythym (at least in my mind). I especially like the verse with the record store.

[Bessie The Cow Jr]

*bump*