5-27-97 outsider

rolling in France

I’ve overheard the ghosts on the West Pier
Gotten whispers from the old stone church
On the far side of the cricket pitch
And seen a pretty day in England
Then awoke in a mall familiar besides the tongue

I’m a stranger in my own home
Drunken room mates chased me from my own living room
Heaving hate and loud words at my quiet mood
I don’t belong here
I’m tired and feeling viscous

The quiet calm kicked out of me
By the day and it’s surroundings
I allow it to be stolen because I’m human too
Without the toxic outlet that engulfs the air
Beautiful people polluted by the same thing
That brought me hope and nearly killed me

I’m looking for the positive, the inspiring, the hopeful
And know it’s within, somewhere…
Help me let go till my next break comes
I miss me
I miss you
If we’re the sick ones, what could they be?
I’m broken and lovesick, tired and unrestful
In a way that a day’s sleep won’t fix

I don’t care who holds who
Just that it happens soon
And that this trip still gives me pretty sights
And time to get away
From the noise.