there should be a reason for
a memory you can’t ignore
or wash off the block
like a child’s sidewalk chalk
your poetry reads like prose
and somewhere I know a door is closed
but I’m content to breathe through all the cracks
oh alay alas, your tongue is tied
and this’ll be our last foray outside
and I’ve been thinking so for sometime
we’ve always been done better by our kind
if you can’t talk your way out
you’re better to talk about the colour of the sunset
driving home
if I can’t walk my way out
it’s better to go without
and stumble on the next one to come along
oh alay alas, your tongue is tied
and this’ll be our last foray outside
and I’ve been thinking so for sometime
we’ve always been done better by our kind