The days are getting shorter, the wind has found her teeth
I think I’m supposed to be somewhere back east
Now I drive alone with my mind, fighting thoughts of this kind
And in the solace of these naked empty streets
I’m free…to just breathe.
And she says I’m the king of random phone calls
I explained to her it’s just this time of year
These awkward conversations
the constant isolation
This town is bringing us down.
We’re so bogged down with flesh and bone
Somehow I don’t think we’re supposed to feel quite this alone
Filled with clutter, watch us stutter-step and fall
I wonder if we have the strength to get back up
Cause we’re empty, floating loveless
Cut us and we bleed only dust.
~W. Sroka, American Singer, Songwriter
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