2016 04 17
These are not the days we pretend to live,
she laughs and throws beer bottle at the tree
which runs away singing over red hills
and scatters spell books on the road to nowhere.
We are not the clowns you pretend to love,
he smiles and steals another highway sign
so travelers over waste land of desire
chase fading rainbows on the road to nowhere.
I am not the king you pretend to crown,
I shout while strumming guitar on dark stage
then paint new features on mask of your face
with secret code to map the road to nowhere.
You are not the wiz you pretend to play,
you mutter to yourself in glass of beer
while switching channels on the broken telly
which shows your story on the road to nowhere.