The Window

 

 

There’s a window I sit at

Every morning I sit and

Stare at the traffic

Rushing by

 

This boring life of mine

Stuck in a prison

Of my own design

Every day’s the same

 

Chorus

And I look out the window

I see pedestrians walk on by

And I wish I was out

I wish I was free to run

Out with the crowd

 

This window I sit at

Every morning, my hand

On the bars holding me in

Keeping me safe and sound

 

This boring life of mine

Stuck here by my own fault

Mistakes I have made

And it’s too late to change

 

chorus

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright of Zachary Carriere April 19 2000