Sometimes I just want to slip into the shadows;
To fade from time and space
And escape the delicate mundanity
Of a world bereft of dreams.
When nobody cares to listen,
And nobody chances to see,
And I think if I walk slowly enough
Maybe I'll never get there.
Pale-skinned women in black satin
March to the beat of the thunder
And pay their respects to the dead
With scarcely a thought for the living.
Plastic. Everything so plastic.
Lacking in its reality even a shred
Of the contradictory quintessence
Which our lives it once endowed.
I think I've overstayed my welcome.
This place just isn't friendly anymore.
Come nightfall I'll be leaving -
Lost and gone, and soon forgotten.