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Thursday, April 16, 2009

The Library

Somewhere here I must belong
Sleeping inside a sombre song
Sensing salvation won’t be long
All the people can’t always be wrong

Nothing real to call my own
Floating in a crowd all alone
The sheltered life I have outgrown
Black and white is all I’ve ever known

My heaviest possession is my name
No one around, so no-one to blame
Waiting for the times to change
Listening to the world go insane

Asking who here entertains the clown,
Or paints that smile over the frown?
Takes him for granted when he’s around,
Then misses him when you’re feeling down?

Deafening sound of the library clock
Hear the hollow of writers block
Every word is out of stock
Every door has got a lock

To friends or family who no longer call
Have love but write on another’s wall
Time will catch up to us all
Even the best of us will inevitably fall

Marvel at the magic music of old
People who cared, people with soul
Filled a gap in the heart of a hole
For now, every story’s already been told

To sing and dance in the happy dark
To call home, the bench in the park
You had it once, you lost the spark
Let’s go crawling back to the start

The suffering of boredom buried inside
Trapped in a box, you can no longer hide
Rot away now, your spirit has died
This is what happens when good and evil collide
Bilal Raja
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