Again, the world seems to be mad & beat:
All I can hear are the whispers of pain
And the sunrise is pink fog in the street.
There's a broken crucifix at my feet.
The storm was dismissed by a hurricane.
Again, the world seems to be mad & beat.
I saw a black crow flying sixty feet
Into the dawn; he didn't stop to explain.
And the sunrise is pink fog in the street.
The twin rainbows in the night sky taste sweet,
But like tattered sheets they will wash away.
Again, the world seems to be mad & beat.
You look like all the people I could meet,
But you left you hat behind just the same
And the sunrise is pink fog in the street.
‘My escape,’ you say sadly, ‘must be fleet.’
A handshake, then the bus takes you away.
Again, the world seems to be mad & beat
And the sunrise is pink fog in the street.
10.May.1978
