Birds In Row "Morning"

he waking took longer than the war 'tween my mind and my blood, And i’m not sure who wriggled out I can’t stop thinking : Does politeness make it bearable ? Or is it just who we are ? And how much time, in a lifetime, do we waste waiting at traffic lights ? It makes me sick but i can't remember the way i got here Born in freedom Raised in love Grown an adult Perishable hopes keep the vultures fat And the one thing i know, they won’t give them back Not looking forward to the « good old times » For i don’t know how to keep all my shit together I’m just a stack of photographs (x2) I can’t keep my shit together And the older i get, the better i am At forgetting names and faces I first took these pictures So, I wake up alone Can’t i play on my own ? And with the sun, I make faces to the first silhouettes haunting the streets i walk. Home. Sun. Concrete burns. Faces. Curse. Smile. Where the fuck will it end ?