| The Crying Game |
Noisy streets Croissants from the bakeries The meat man hangs his bangers There comes humanity Prodded out their doors By their alarm clocks Veil of pretension sweeping Across the land once more With the waking of the sun To coat the activities of the day Looking out the caf� window Sipping my cuppacino Nonchalantly flicking through The newspaper.. My mind still asleep My heart still mumbling nonsence The soul knitting my dreams There's a lament from table 4 The woman's make up running As she edged her signature On a piece of paper Like a lover engraving on the bark Of a tree There's sadness Drifting my way Pretty much like the aroma Of my coffee Tapping the glass windows Wanting to dissipate out To the open air Where laughter was still king And the world still boxed In the merry go round Of writing tomorrows Yes, a lot of crying ...a crying game. � Bagger Vance 2003 |
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