mephisto_so7
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Mar 4, 2001
- Messages
- 20
Feels good to be back home again.
It's been four years since I walked these streets
And it's sad how run down they've become.
Posters, once shining bright white,
Now yellow and weathered by the rain
Warwick once hung proud at the intersection of West Central.
Now its covered black with sludge.
I walked up the steps of Saint Viators
And gave the oak door a forceful pull,
But it seems not even the most welcome
Of places stay open anymore.
I feel the cold stares of fear and concern
While I sit on the dilapidated retaining wall,
Full of memories of when I was a kid
And I hadn't stepped aboard the one-way train
To heartache I've been riding on for what
Seems like forever.
A peaceful moment is interrupted
By the harsh tones of humanity
But I calm them with pleasant reminder
That this was once my home too
And I've driven 300 miles through
The darkest stretches of highway
And past the loneliest fields
Of dead wheat stalks and barren soy plots
Just to ease my weary mind.
I stand up and brush the fallen paint chips
Of my childhood off my pants and continue on
To the station at Irving Park, all the while
Wondering if this one-way trip will ever end.
A crackled, monotone voice forces my eyes open
As it seems I've reached the end of the line.
I transfer back, as my gut tells me this trip
Wouldn't end just past Waukegan, nor in the
Hustle and bustle of crowded city streets.
I stop off Lakeshore where I'm welcomed
With a warm smile and the open arms of an old friend.
The hours flow as swiftly as our conversation
While we both smoke away the pain inside.
I can't resist the opportunity to take a moment
To plug myself into high speed data streams,
A constant reminder that communication
Is the one thing that stops us from truly being free,
But it's a sacrafice we must make and a means
By which we survive.
I remain hidden behind a mask while ones and zeros
Tell work it can wait and my family that I'm back home
And it pains me to say that I'll be leaving here soon.
Soon enough, I'll pass through the turnstile
To make my way back to my life in a place I hate.
Smiling all the while with a fresh new coat,
Never looking back for the leaden chips left on the ground behind me.
Knowing I sold a dream to renew one of life's
True worthwhile guarantees..
Me.
It's been four years since I walked these streets
And it's sad how run down they've become.
Posters, once shining bright white,
Now yellow and weathered by the rain
Warwick once hung proud at the intersection of West Central.
Now its covered black with sludge.
I walked up the steps of Saint Viators
And gave the oak door a forceful pull,
But it seems not even the most welcome
Of places stay open anymore.
I feel the cold stares of fear and concern
While I sit on the dilapidated retaining wall,
Full of memories of when I was a kid
And I hadn't stepped aboard the one-way train
To heartache I've been riding on for what
Seems like forever.
A peaceful moment is interrupted
By the harsh tones of humanity
But I calm them with pleasant reminder
That this was once my home too
And I've driven 300 miles through
The darkest stretches of highway
And past the loneliest fields
Of dead wheat stalks and barren soy plots
Just to ease my weary mind.
I stand up and brush the fallen paint chips
Of my childhood off my pants and continue on
To the station at Irving Park, all the while
Wondering if this one-way trip will ever end.
A crackled, monotone voice forces my eyes open
As it seems I've reached the end of the line.
I transfer back, as my gut tells me this trip
Wouldn't end just past Waukegan, nor in the
Hustle and bustle of crowded city streets.
I stop off Lakeshore where I'm welcomed
With a warm smile and the open arms of an old friend.
The hours flow as swiftly as our conversation
While we both smoke away the pain inside.
I can't resist the opportunity to take a moment
To plug myself into high speed data streams,
A constant reminder that communication
Is the one thing that stops us from truly being free,
But it's a sacrafice we must make and a means
By which we survive.
I remain hidden behind a mask while ones and zeros
Tell work it can wait and my family that I'm back home
And it pains me to say that I'll be leaving here soon.
Soon enough, I'll pass through the turnstile
To make my way back to my life in a place I hate.
Smiling all the while with a fresh new coat,
Never looking back for the leaden chips left on the ground behind me.
Knowing I sold a dream to renew one of life's
True worthwhile guarantees..
Me.
