predict a harsh snowy winter around here
and my only shoes are worn to holes
and my pants legs are shredded at the cuffs
old age spreads like a cataract over some vision
and every day grows closer to milky pearl light
oh I never thought it would come down this way
I never thought the street itself would be my bed
nor did I think that those who once knew me
would turn away pretending they didn't...
heavy slabs of gray cloud imitate a stone vault's lid
and the burning torches of this crypt would be
the glowing figures of onlookers tsk tsk-ing
before wandering away to their own dooms...
Content (c) 2008-2013 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
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