dry lips / time slips
i'm apparently a dead beat
with a touch of defeat
i'm filling up your backseat
with regrets and countless debts
i'm as close to breaking down as it gets
change the gear, disappear
when i'm on the edge
of the city skyline,
hopelessly aligned
to the corporate spine
i will return and i will yearn
for something to burn
no consolation
no inspiration
no sensation left
but this is not over
are you afraid to
live without your routines?
you put your trust in their
mirages and scenes
without even knowing what it means
to be deprived of something
or to have survived
no admiration
just isolation
this devastation
has no restoration