A step and a breeze

Concrete sight

The ghost surely knows better


Who knows, the painter may slip


Sea under, mount the shore

Don't be sure

Paint the black of Manhattan smoke

Follow away

And the abyss thrusts back at the stars

The speeding cars

carried you til the kaleidoscope awoke.


He intensifies himself to an introverted lifestyle

Whiling away at certain things

As the shore covers the walkway

And the terrestrials start to speak.


As we are we still love our sound


Like tendrils of forgotten waters over that shore again

Where has the road gone?

The walkway is a lost city

And our feet are the lone questers

And our minds are the priests that hold this town together.

The running man

Everything laid out, horizontal

Where you have to tilt your head to see

There are sights, there are smells

That intrigue the escapee

He feels powerful and wise

Secretive – so why

He plays the bigger fool than even you or even I

The girl will come and offer

The wisdom he so sought

And with his head held high

He will run and scream and rot

And he will be the controller

And he will be your friend

And he will be the key, in the very end.