He walks along these cold stone streets He barely passes another soul. The wind blowing through his hair Blowing it across or back, it doesn't matter which A long black coat trails out behind, blown back or around by the wind Turning a corner, Another street, Another name. Same feeling. Same wind. Same stone cold Everything constantly changing, But mostly staying the same. And down another street into the gloom, he walks And/Walking through the gloom he comes. Five thoughts passing through his head. Constantly changing and intermingling Never clear. Never certain. Just determined to think something. When the rain comes it passes over him Gently covering him or pounding down upon him The rain is at one with him The wind and the rain and the gloom all join together To create the perfect evening for the walker. And as a single tear trickles (slowly) down his cheek He thinks. As he thinks all five thoughts converge To a single point (of purpose). And as a single tear trickles (slowly) down his cheek He thinks "Bollocks, I'm fucking bored of this".
He walks by Shred |