This Town Needs Guns
It's Not True Rufus, Don't Listen To The Hat
Have some faithdon't you know that this is not a raceand we are not contenders now.So ask questions likewhich truth is the truth with which I chose to define myselfand bare all my insecurities?These cobbled streets and stone walls can't contain us.This knot in my stomachis the result of all I envyand the route to my redemption.It reminds me that I am a mess of bone and tissueand a slave to my own ambitions.We can only be ignored for so longSo lets get back on that horse, take the road less travelled and get away from this town of claustraphobic creativity. Let's start afresh, leave the embers of this burnt out city to settle on the stunted seeds in which it has poured its misplaced trust.Lets see from a different perspective the sun, the sky, the moon, the stars, the sea, sand, trees, clouds, train lines, road signs, motorways and slip roads, postcards, dreamy days, winters end and spring beginnings, window seats, cats eyes caught in corner glances,late night adventures, firesides and the dirt grey contrast of the high rise with lights calling us home; an orange glow snaking its path across green fields, towns and cities. Drawing lines across maps to open up new sights, sounds, and the infinite possibility of the horizon.
From Letras Mania