I am sitting on a blanket in the gardens of my head
And my life seems just a story in a book that is unread,
Adventure is a beacon and it’s all that I can see.
Oh. The city shows its light to me,
The city shines its lights for me.
I am sleeping in the doorway of a boarded empty shop.,
The high-rise winds have chilled me through and forced me to a stop.
The police will come to move me on and kick me tenderly
And the city’s icescape freezes me,
The desert city freezes me.
I could never find my way out to a place I could call home.
The needle wins our battle and I’m free again to roam.
I am lying in the gateway of a tumbled cemetery,
Yes. The city quietly buries me,
The city gently buried me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem