Sunday, July 21, 1996

rest here in bed


wish I knew still don’t know what to do
so I think of your eyes
don’t know how to be anyone but me
can’t wear an oversized disguise

every thing's gone and I am not the pawn
in someone’s foolish game
I can’t find the place where I don’t see your face
some thing's not right I am not the same

as all the rest and I don’t claim to be best
but different in some kind of way
just take a look through the words in the book
escape with the writer for today

no promise I bring
don’t expect anything
smiling when hearing the voice
never been mad
though sometimes gets sad
wouldn’t if given the choice

what they want
past will never haunt
dreams of what’s yet to be
some life unseen
a place so serene
don’t know if we’ll ever see

dreams coming true
who knew what to do
in a situation stuck in the head
don’t want to wake up
mistakes must makes up
for now resting here in bed. . .

Saturday, July 20, 1996

i know the fool


why am I here in this place
where I don’t recognize a face
are they offended looking at you
many catches made knowing you knew
without a doubt
words wont come out
hidden in a mind far away
soon you wont stay
will you be back been here before
make another catch as you head for the door
open to the outside where do you go
mind plowing thoughts as if it were snow
given the chance I look and then
keep my mouth shut once again
boring as Eliot I sit and I think
up from the pages watching eyes blink
how do I dare I know the fool
starting to drift right off the stool. . .