Wednesday, 25 July 2007

A Girl Called Bombay

So softly, she slid into my hand,
All alone again, across the line.
She lifts her head to show me the land,
And I leave it there, a masterpiece unsigned.
I met a girl in Bombay.
She told me a lie.
She smiled through her teeth,
But when I turned away, she cried.

She told me her story,
The one I’ve heard before.
Tell me again boy,
‘What is it we’re fighting for?’

I never had the answer,
Too caught up in my own.
I laughed at her dry,
When she carved through her bone.

Pretty faces scare me,
I hide from the sun.
I don’t know who you are anymore,
Or what I’ve become.

Maybe its avarice, my only shame.
Maybe its you, the one I should blame.
Maybe it’s me like it’s always been,
Maybe I’ve finally become a name.

White skin so cold with flowers in her hair,
Like a long lost soldier losing sense of time.
I leave her be in her own world,
Frozen and broken, like a masterpiece unsigned.

So take me down this sad lonely town,
The one that don’t feel mine.
Take me up up and away, far into the sun,
I’ll grow some wings, begin to shine.

Lights go down and they look so pretty,
The one I could never be.
Hide me from my followers, and
Wake with someone by my side.

She never looks before she laughs,
‘I look ugly in a photograph.’
There’s a thing somewhere trapped inside,
The camera can’t see.

Tears she cried that were in vain.
Flowing down tonight with the rain.
I could try to be like you again,
But look in the mirror; you’ll only see me.

I left her there, couldn’t bring her back,
Even if I wanted, for one last time.
Bombay - the city of crumbling walls and dreams,
Like a masterpiece unsigned.

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