Shiny Leather Boots



Am I still young?                                 can I still flatten things beneath shiny leather boot?


            Wind, you are chasing me

        but I always feel you at my fringe


                                                  Hearing the chime and the whisper of the clock
my bag is set to go, always prepared,                   there is always a bottle packed beneath the clothes

I dream of ghosts, I remember the love, I think of what I have seen


                              I used to grow great flowers
       while I my self was growing

                                                                 I don't know if I can do it anymore
                                                       out of eyes so blurred with age and emotion

I should be out moving amongst the fragile sunlight
Grasping out those jagged elm leaves

                        I refuse to listen, and I refuse to read that final line

                              I will fly high, and close to the sun, I will leave a line like those planes


And if I am too close to that bursting sun, I don't mind if I start to shake and fall

     I will merely land upon the ground and find my feet once more

I miss the ghost, I miss the smell, dipping and climbing in discontent
                                                                         And the night that you sleep in, that you leave me alone in

I don't know where you are, The neighbour he keeps a light on so his family bathes in love
I am taking my whispering clock and walking down, with the wind through my hair
I have to stamp on the syrupy night in shiny leather boots, I know I will go far

                                  I need soft blackness against my face, and a bottle buried beneath my clothes

I am fighting so hard, and I will take a worry line

                 It's time to leave the alter

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