My songs, just rhymes on paper
Some footprints in the snow
All leading somewhere
Somewhere I don't know
Words that seem to be alive
Adventurous thoughts at play
Lie in a pile by the door
Ready to be thrown away
I don't read them, no
For what good would that do
A thousand songs of love
A story of me and you
All songs 988
Each a piece of a puzzle of the cake we baked
Like raindrops on the Pacific
All songs 988
So long, it's been great
My lamp now sits lonely
In some darkened corner of the room
Surrounded by dead light
And dust, in this pharaoh like room
The flood of thoughts are turned off
I won't write again no more
Not until I hear your footsteps
And your knock upon my door
But I won't play Miss Havisham, or act like Juliet
If Valjean is the alternative, then Yossarian, no Alexander, no
John Galt is better yet
All songs 988
Each a piece of a puzzle of the cake we baked
Like raindrops on the Pacific
All songs 988
So long, it's been great
Many times in my short life I've cried
When I heard that "intelligence has died"
But never have I felt more alone
Then the day you left my side
So raise your glass and drink a toast
They say Christ been reborn
A little late, but don't hesitate
You profited from him before
It seems an eternity, since I have last seen sleep
So, if you pardon me, I'll graciously close my eyes for thirty winks
All songs 988
Each a piece of a puzzle of the cake we baked
Like raindrops on the Pacific
All songs 988
So long, it's been great
Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 (updated 2023)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem