some days I wake up
and in some way I still get the blues.
But they never stay
and they never stay.
Its days like these
when everything is covered in dust
Like ash and silver
Its days like these, which come in grays and hazy days
Looking to the dust of the settling fragments of time
and listen to the particles chime on chime on
Over the bridge a cloak of gunmetal the trumpets carry me home
the brass rays and sad moans and blue note
fingering through the sweating bleeding l
cold and gray
Its days like these that put silver dust under my eyelids
making days like tomorrow worth waking to
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem