Edge Of Twenty Seven

With a pocket full of change and empty promises
I go down the street to catch the bus into town
A stranger opposite me looks over and frowns
With a bag full of unnecessary purchases

I look out of the window and watch people go by
Not seeing anything but the lines on her faces
All trying to maintain their own private spaces
Undergraduates in life won’t need to apply

The world grows smaller as every new day comes
Filling up the years that melt into my memory
Etched in my mind for the therapist to see
Beating along with time and percussion drums

My thoughts are running all over the place again
Lost inside the abyss of my time machine
My rainbow only reflecting colours of green
My spectrum was dropped and broken way back when

The letters from my past are writing to complain
About the lack of enthusiasm in their lines
With no blueprints left to recover their designs
They’re all lost and wrapped up in their cellophane

Hanging on the sharp end of razorblade heaven
Holding on tight to find my way back
The metal is rusty and starting to crack
Hanging on a wire on the edge of twenty seven.