you are driving
roads pointing towards something
off the map
a breath of almost fresh air

i am lying in the backseat
awake and alive
filming the passing sky out the window

there is a wave that comes down on all of us
from high above
it washes away the grime
of life on the street
and in the boardroom

a fragment of pain
paintchips and spilt whiskey
my god or your god
or no god

its all been worked out
i guess
and maybe i just forgot
or maybe i just remembered

either way
i know why i’m here
simply by knowing that i am here

Submit a comment