Chipped paint and cracked brick walls,
Yellowed moon and tower lights for stars,
Concrete plastered over green floors--
This is the world I abhor.
Crumbling buildings and rusted locks;
Doors are used as clocks.
The ocean beats against the blackened shore,
Wanting to embrace our dusty roads,
But settling for broken bottles and faded words.
The footprints have been washed away,
Taking their empty promises to play.
The shell-castle has long been drowned in the tears of the forgotten and lost.
And yet we move on crisscrossed,
Wishing on those satellites,
Picking up those glass pieces,
And wave back at the ocean.
The sun grows cold and the flowers have lost their colors,
But still the world spins on.
Children play with fairies and the adults fight off shadowy figures and others, hoping--
That tomorrow might be a little warmer,
That the ink will never bleed,
‘I promise’ is a guarantee,
That the smoke will clear.
We will wish on those bright gases of light,
Where no one can shoot them down--
That is a world I want; without blight.