…all the little shared parts of urban life-
the laundromat, with its tiles covered in a paste formed of dust, lint and detergent
hearing the screams through the walls and floors
the rhythmic yelping
cars backfiring, racing up the hill as we try to sleep,
The sirens singing us to sleep
As we lay our heads and peer,
realizing we’re not the only ones.
Outside the window I watch them all,
Rolling up the hill until they fall…
…all the little shared parts of urban life-
the sidewalk, how it sparkles in the sun
soaking up the scents of those who tread
The blood, the sweat and heat create the scent of days gone by,
The way the cars ignore it so,
And me, pedestrians belong to it,
Ever-shifting the dust, kicking the rocks, eroding that which makes us feel at home
Until one day we forget those roads
That once we thought we’d always know
…all the little shared parts of urban life-
the tank was full, we drove too far
you must get out and push the car
they must be watching, i’m sure they are
push with ease, don’t try too hard
the whispers from the distant shores
carried forth by wooden oars
piling fore upon the shores
punching holes into the doors
Left alone, beaten and sore
Laying there and wanting more
the laundromat, with its tiles covered in a paste formed of dust, lint and detergent
hearing the screams through the walls and floors
the rhythmic yelping
cars backfiring, racing up the hill as we try to sleep,
The sirens singing us to sleep
As we lay our heads and peer,
realizing we’re not the only ones.
Outside the window I watch them all,
Rolling up the hill until they fall…
…all the little shared parts of urban life-
the sidewalk, how it sparkles in the sun
soaking up the scents of those who tread
The blood, the sweat and heat create the scent of days gone by,
The way the cars ignore it so,
And me, pedestrians belong to it,
Ever-shifting the dust, kicking the rocks, eroding that which makes us feel at home
Until one day we forget those roads
That once we thought we’d always know
…all the little shared parts of urban life-
the tank was full, we drove too far
you must get out and push the car
they must be watching, i’m sure they are
push with ease, don’t try too hard
the whispers from the distant shores
carried forth by wooden oars
piling fore upon the shores
punching holes into the doors
Left alone, beaten and sore
Laying there and wanting more
