I am afraid of the there to here.
Of the from there to here
The many steps between that I would have to journey
over again
and again.
If I could find my way here the way I have, I would travel
there again
and again.
If I knew I could return, and return me, as before.
Still, I might go to there for you.
I’ve got a ticket in my pocket and it’s whispering my name.
I've got a ticket for the train – hear it whistling miles away.
Miles away, miles away, my mind’s caught it all the same.
I'm waiting for you to make me want to dance.
Remind my heart what it's like to be held
Out in front of everyone, romanced.
Lead me in your arms, and I'll be lead.
Song after song, and band after band,
Day after day, still piercing me with that glance.
And when fight after fight you're still holding my hand,
Put your arm 'round my waste, remind me why I love to dance.
I'll be your anchor to the sound
Hold me here in time,
And remind me how it is to be found
Yes, I'll hide and you tell me what you find.
Don't worry about old towns,
Cities, miles, counting dimes.
When your mind starts to race around,
Close your eyes and just call out "mine"
You'll hear "found" somewhere near the Sound.
There's a secret to this heart that breaks and melts and ebbs away.
But you won't find those written here.
You'll find them, if anywhere they stain, written where I lay
My pen, dripping out my mysteries
In the sanctum for this writer's dreams.
There, perhaps my pen drips its own streams
Of thought, bleading my quiet story on reams.
Open your eyes and make you see that what you see
And what you feed your eyes are leading you down empty streets,
Candle lit alley ways and avenues of make-believe.
That make you feel you feel your feet,
Seem alive and full of daring dreams.
But it's just a stream-lined,
Picture, perfect, emotion-driven alibi
With colorful pictures as street signs,
Tumbling you deeper down the rabbit hole,
Another adventure you've stole.
You're still painting by numbers
Tea parties, trends and tumblrs.
Move one: Blue dress and blonde hair,
Chasing another girl's hare (rather, rabbit)
Down an endless set of notes as stairs.
Why don't you just stop, and eat the biscuit?
Grow up, stop looking at gardens through key holes,
Read the book, not just the quote.
And answer the real question that he posed,
Who are you? And when did you forget your role?
You were meant to be an original.
But on your adventures in Tumblrland, you forgot.
Fear not, creativity can still be found if sought.
Stop painting all the roses red, and learn how a rose is wrought.
