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Of Illusions
by
Quidam
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you used to be my home we'd think up the most terrific stories making plans and looking the world down the neckline now something's missing remember the old bus stop it was a mecca for drunkards, one day heroes so many times we'd cry up there staining our shirts with cheap red wine now I look at you but I cannot see you you soak up your life like a sponge and me, well... I'll drink up another coffee I'll keep on wasting my faith let's write our words up on the wall 'cos the great thoughts don't come back leave them here let them flow they will matter there an interview with you I've seen in that colour magazine confident of what you want you'll make investments the winner takes it all, takes it all
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