The morning leads me over to my window
The air feels sharp against my skin
Am I leaning out, or the outside leaning in
People walk past in the streets.
A city that I will never meet.
People in their cars and their cars in the streets,
the streets in the city where I sleep.
Walk down to the supermarket.
Milk and bread in my basket.
Chocolate on the shelf and my mind on the docket,
I'm a slave to the change that's in my pocket.
Planes draw lines in the skies.
Beautiful people fill my eyes.
Drawing lines now to my own conclusions,
beauty is desire in disguise.
The morning leads me
over to my window.
The air feels sharp
against my skin.
Am I leaning out, or
the outside leaning in.