play again. get lucky.

so i've been hanging out down by the train's depot
no, i don't ride
i just sit and watch the people there.
they remind me of wind up cars in motion,
the way they spin and turn and jockey for positions.
and want to scream out that it all is nonsense.
that their life's one track, and can't they see it's pointless?

but then my knees give under me
my head feels weak and suddenly
it's clear to see
it's not them, but me
who's lost my self-identity.
as i hide behind these books i read
while scribbling my poetry
like art could save a wretch like me
with some ideal ideology
that no one could hope to achieve
and i'm never real
it's just a sketch of me
and everything i've made is trite
and cheap
and a waste
of paint
of tape
of time.


so i park my car down by the cathedral
where the floodlights point up at the steeples
choir practice is filling up with people
i hear the sound escaping as an echo
sloping off the ceiling at an angle
when the voices blend they sound like angels
i hope there's some room still in the middle
but when i lift my voice up now to reach them
the range is too high way up in heaven

so i hold my tongue
forget the song
tie my shoes
start walking off
and try to just keep moving on
with my broken heart
and my absent God
and i have no faith
but it's all i want
to be loved
and believe
in my soul

in my soul.