adapted travel

in a plane to new york, london and paris
when will i rest, i'm living on top of it
it’s all that i have
the memory is my daily bread
and i'm not willing to share it

why can’t i see my fortune
living as legends have lived
insane and dismannered
i talk to myself all the time
knowing that nothing is left when i say

i am a fool

a direct hit of the senses and i am disconnected
it’s not that it’s bad - it’s not that it’s death
it’s just on the tip of my tongue, and i'm so silent

wanting to live and laugh all the time
sitting alone with my coffee and my crime
my children with kids, and my parents once did
but there’s no past and no presence
when the day comes and all i'm all alone
with all the enchanted people

when it's a rut but plenty of luck
most of it's misunderstanded love
the war i have won - i'm winning again
in myself and within my friends
time to move along