the road to nowhere
leads just there
down in the doldrums
where no children play
weeping willows are a sickly gray
and no one makes it out alive
all you hear at night are screams
of people who cant bear to see
the fading of spanish lullabies
they weave stories
everybody tells me
wait another second
but seconds are minutes
minutes are hours
hours are days, and weeks, and years
a lifetime
i am placed on the road that has no end
a cul-de-sac
until one day i wake up and im sitting
on the ruins of a cold park bench
which lies on the ruins of a cold gray road
and upon these both,
rest the ruins of a still, cold me.
seconds become a lifetime
on the road to nowhere.