Ripped-up Signs
The street's not exactly lonely but,
Ripped up signs mark the way,
Their paper surfaces torn into until they're
Something like a blank surface
And it seems to be that's like a lot of people
Riding on a not-exactly-lonely road
Begging for a sign and just
Seeing these blank ripped-up faces
Maybe that's why everyone seems to hurt.
And on the radio a voice sings
Promising to wipe away all my tears
Because I still hurt, but I
Don't believe a word that's sung
It's not yet time for my tears to be
Wiped away by some other hand
It will be eventually, but right now I need to
Smudge them away with a finger and fist
And keep riding on my unlonely road
Letting the ripped-up signs be for me a symbol
Of what I sometimes feel inside.