Wednesday, March 28, 2012
To Sink or to Swim
Has the time come for breaking away?
Can I no longer repeat and repeat?
For nobody cares for what I have to say,
As they nod along to the bass and the beat.
There’s not but horizons of endless grey
(That same old colour) and plodding of feet.
No fun, no games, not safe even to play;
Burst footballs cling to the sides of the street.
So should I just give them all what they want?
Dance to their tunes, do their drugs, wear a hood?
Go out at night and take part in the hunt?
Do all the things I said I never would?
I have no intr’est in crossing that void.
It’s by this and my friends that I am buoyed.