Wednesday, February 17, 2010

My Red Bench

Somebody once told me,
The reason is all up there.
Well,God knows where to find me...
I'll just be sleeping on my bench.

It smells of fresh red paint,
Reeks of burnt cigarette memories
Of sitting on it, waiting for someone...
Till I'll give up and fall asleep on my bench.

Birds gather all around me,
Frisky little things they are.
'Used to be so scared of them once too....
Now I let'em wait with me
On my bench.

My bench is old and its rickety...
Its freshly painted but still...
One day, they had to move it
Fate called

Now I sleep on it in my sleepless dreams....

'Cause I'm not sleeping on my bench

I never found God,
He found my red bench

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