Walk the streets and
name the darkness,
shake the raindrops from
her hair;
talk the talk and
paint her heartless,
love her tender she
won't care.
The water touches and
it freezes,
she can't see it she
can't feel it--
and she whispers,
so she shrugs
and slips away.

She feels she isn't heard
amongst the mumbling
dissaray,
and so she whispers,
so she shrugs
and slips away.

Empty streets and
empty buildings,
in a city made
of glass;
Lonely byways
show her strange things,
her love is fleeting
never lasts.
Try to touch her and
she burns you,
she can't see you she
can't feel you--
and she's lonesome,
so she sighs
and fades away.

She feels so isolated
amongst the jostling
dissaray--
and so she's lonesome,
so she sighs
and fades away.

She lives in monochromic--
she speaks in shades of grey.
She feels in hollow manners,
she loves in empty ways.

She feels she is the only one
who sees the dissaray. . .

Lift the hands and
catch the pale drops,
acid rain like angel
tears;
life is clearer when
the red drops,
try to stitch away
her fears.
Try to reach her and
the words break,
she can't hear them she
can't feel them--
and her eyes. . .

She feels she is the only one
who sees the dissaray. . .
and it hurts her,
so she cuts her sight
away.



~(c)The Mad Poet (A.K.LaBelle) 9-02-02