Sitting here looking at the moon
Just like that night in June
The radio playing a song that I can't remember
But the tune still gets me, even in September
Neon stars replace the real ones
A different town, but still the same son
Every night another suicide
Another one for the shifting tide
I promised myself I'd never leave the night
But today I sit staring at a classroom light
All these faces don't mean a thing
All these faces are just a worthless fling
A vacation from that which holds my soul
This town is nothing but a big hole
Nothing that can't be sewn together
Something for a needle and leather
I'm in the middle of nowhere without a prayer
I've started to pull off another layer
Now I'm in between heaven and hell
I started here, and this is where I fell
Only dead men have seen what I've seen
And those dead men live in the in between
My ticket has expired and I'm all out of dimes
Can't get out, so I guess I'll chop me out a line
This in between is what they call life
I prefer to cut it with my knife
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem