Through the gaps in the Japanese blinds,
The plastic bamboo rattles slightly,
In the wind as it wonders on by.
Specks of dust that get knocked off fall slowly,
To the ground through the sun coloured stripes,
As it creeps through the gaps in the slats,
Making ladders of lemonade light.
To the ground through the sun coloured stripes,
As it creeps through the gaps in the slats,
Making ladders of lemonade light.
And as the traffic outside hums its theme tune,
With its buzz and irregular beats,
I give memories melodies
I make images hymns,
That get lost in the haze and the heat,
I’ve lost count of the hours I’ve been sat here,
I’ve lost track of time since I moved,
I’ve lost count of the moons, stars and the planets,
That have risen and set on this room.
I’ve lost track of time since I moved,
I’ve lost count of the moons, stars and the planets,
That have risen and set on this room.
I’ve lost track of the reasons I’ve stayed here,
Cant account for the smell or the mess
But there’s thirty two holes in the arm of the chair,
Where I’ve stubbed out my old cigarettes.
And as the traffic outside hums its theme tune,
With its buzz and irregular beats,
There’s a bright spark of life,
As the light hit’s the steel
Of a needle that’s down near my feet.
With its buzz and irregular beats,
There’s a bright spark of life,
As the light hit’s the steel
Of a needle that’s down near my feet.
