Thursday, 23 October 2008
The middle-class drifter
Here we go again,
The long haul into winter.
To find a Christmas destination?
That’s easy – just go… nowhere.
Flicking coins all afternoon
We don’t know what happened to morning.
The cobwebs, the drink, which first?
When late nights become early dawnings.
You know why we do this though, right?
Escape from it all, responsibility, life
Insurance, the fresh wounds commitment deals
And scars. But some things never scar.
I’m talking open wounds, baby,
The inescapable, that which cannot be
Forgotten, or left behind, and
No, I’m not married!
I’m not saying wounds are bad,
I just don’t need any more,
The ones I have help me look inside myself
And remember where I came from.
That’s why this year, for Christmas… I’m going home.