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Blogs > IronMask999 > Anywhere but Here... |
Grey Park
Grey Park Hands in my pockets O, why do I wear such thin coats? My breath is now talking The exorcism of old ghosts The bench is my lover Waves to me in chipped colours You've been with some others Alive with Dukes and Murderers The man up the Millway Conquistador now conquered Been waiting since morning For a bus that he preferred Years of good<b> service </font></b>And Honours from the Commonwealth Now he's without purpose A single flat and failed health The Poet Musician Plays to crowds of fallen leaves Although she is distant I understand her heart grieves Her morbid obsession Wind and melody intertwined She left an impression Until I paid her no mind In Grey Park, nothing here is new In Grey Park, home to just a few The Cat now approaches Where've you been my feline friend? And what are your motives? Stalking low around the bend A grey mackerel tabby Gimp in leg and missing eye Limps back to West Abbey Having stronger faith than I A coughing behind me The whisky lingers on his breath He's asking for money I look away as though I'm deaf He sits down beside me Though silence made the distance far He turned and surprised me His face was quite familiar... In Grey Park, everything's the same In Grey Park, or any other day In Grey Park, blending with the rain In Grey Park, different shades of grey |
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