Every last time I come home,
I take my last chance,
to burn a bridge or two,
I only keep myself this sick in the head cause I know how the words get you {off}.
As the congregation dissipated,
I found myself alone,
I came with no friends,
I left with none.
Some turn to say goodbye,
I meekly respond,
And turn to walk to the lobby,
The lift comes,
I step in but so does another,
We do not talk,
We do not know each other.
As I drag myself towards the road,
The darkness retreats,
The roads are lit,
The night is warm.
The memories are cloudy,
A bus comes and I board it,
Mobile TVs line the sides but heads block them.
The destination is reached,
A sorrowful tune enters my ears,
The pace slow,
The melody longing,
It slowly fades,
Hustle and Bustle get louder.
Crowds float through the walkways,
They pay no attention to me,
And I pay none to them,
For we do not know each other.
We board the train,
We remain solemn,
There is nothing to say.
A song comes to mind,
A song of past.
What was previously a mere sequence of chords,
Now reveals itself to be more,
The heart of the song,
Only made know to those it relates with.
It is of Yearning, Sorrow and Regret,
It is a Hope of Starting New, Afresh, Again,
A sincere Wish on a unfulfilled Birthday.
The train jerks,
And I bump into someone,
A word of "sorry" I utter,
It remains Unanswered,
An insignificant fly compared to his matter at hand.
The world is antagonistic,
It cannot accept us,
For we are... different.
But we stand higher than the world,
We are special.
And no one can change that,
Not even Barney.
=/
