Tuesday, November 20, 2007

The Strainer

I'm the steel strainer
you pass thru everyday,
leaving nothing behind
but the dust of your soul.

I try to reach you
and touch you gently,
like the sun,
embracing the morning.
But your clouds...
your clouds, are way to dense
for these rays to penetrate,
for you still hide in the past
afraid of talking in the present tense.

What is that you're running from
besides running from yourself?
Who are these ghosts
that torment your sleep,
always knocking on your head
to push you deep,
to leave you sad?

I don’t know where to go
but I wont bend my way for you
Cause the desert's always changing its shape
And I’m afraid it swallows me with it too

What doesn’t kill you
makes you stronger.
So...despite we never said hello
or at least give it a try,
its time for me to go
So I guess,
I guess...this is goodbye.