Winter
The yellow sun,
Well it took the hand,
Of a country boy,
To a city in a far off land.
We made no mark,
No shadow at all,
On the ancient holy streets,
Where I learned to crawl.
Looking at the bruised,
The young and the used,
The sure and confused all here
Birds will land on me,
Then abandon me,
Mangle, untangle me,
Leave me on the floor
Rhymes they sprang in me,
Summer sang in me,
But summer sings in me no more.
Now I'm 25,
I'm trying to stay alive,
In a corner of the world,
With no clear enemies to fight.
It's hot as hell, We're like butter on toast But there's no army in this world, That can fight a ghost.
Looking at the bruised,
The young and the used,
The sure and confused all here
Birds will land on me,
Then abandon me,
Leave me stranded,
[..] on the door.
Rhymes began in me,
Summer sang in me,
But summer sings in me no more.