Call it a place or a something like
an endless race.
These lights. The city. These girls.
They are nothing. But pretty.
I hate you, but I can’t feel it any longer.
It’s not depression,
but nothing inside is getting stronger.
Call it what you want,
but don’t need me,
Can’t imagine myself in pasttime’s mindfree.
You know there’s too much of all this nothing,
if nothing gets out of this town,
what do they want to bring in?
What if these nights would become my lifetime day?
What if the need for wasting dreams will come my way?
What if I can’t go back to myself’s yeserday?
What if there’ll be no reason not to waste away?
I’m a stranger in this town,
I feel the hate, but they are not around.
I’m a stranger to myself,
I see myself running.
Daydream by daydream to something else.
Copyright Nicole Inez