Scott Matthews Echoes Of The Lonely
Last night I woke,
Nothing familiar, only feelings that I was alone
In a room in the dark.
What if the dreamer dies?
Tomorrow's sky will abandon every piercing light
And hang like smoke in a closed room.
The tube light in the street flickers away.
I pocket every flash and place it somewhere safe.
As I drown in my sleep,
The hotel room echoes of the lonely.
As I wane under stiff cold sheets,
The party thrives from the copious amounts of binging eyes,
Unlike mine that are trying to find you.
It's 4am and the dirty room's stained,
The door closes as the creek of the hinge
Spills me out of my bed-ache,
So I go wandering.
Downstairs smells of damp cigarettes,
And all that's dispensed is a thought from the vending machine
Telling me I need to bar the obscene from the remainder of my dream.
The drunks that slur the street trickle away,
As they pocket one-night stands in a dim-lit place.
As I drown in my sleep,
The hotel room echoes of the lonely.
As I wane under stiff cold sheets,
The party dies and the copious amounts of sadness hide in my eyes
Until the alarm wakes me...
Wakes me.
But I can never sleep.
