well it’s the same old
thoughts on the counter
that stay cold after an hour
the power of bottles and cans
when do the answers arrive?
the lanterns glow is blinding
while the banters roar is thriving
with the same old confrontation
it seems we might be alive...
a free man
makes his way to the wet land
where the music rings in the
warm air that dances around him
will he go home alone?
they're all there
for a night of jiving in the hot air
but there's no hiding when
all that rhythm ceases to live
who turned out the lights?