A poem I wrote about traveling, playing music on the street, and moments of loneliness |
Hold On Hold on to my hand until the flight lands It’ll be a brand new time, a new sensation and a foreign wine Hold on to my soul, until we find our homes Send your prayers to the sky Where the gods are sleeping and the sun shines Hold on to my money while I’m drinking myself away Put your hand on my shoulder so that I can hold my head up high Hold on to my old crisis in a brand new place Send your prayers to the sky Where the gods are sleeping and the sun shines Lay yourself on down beside me Parallel to the city streets The tragedy started at home I’m awash in a sea of faces With not a smile to be seen It’s a parody of being alone Hold on to my shoes while I jump into the water If I don’t rise back up it means I like it there on the other side Hold on to my memory if I don’t see you again Send your prayers to the sky Where the gods are sleeping and the sun shines Lay yourself on down beside me Parallel to the city streets The tragedy started at home I’m awash in a sea of faces With not a smile to be seen It’s a parody of being alone There’s a ghost in my pocket whispering Bittersweet pieces of nothing About strangers and their destinations There’s a soldier planting pretty things At the feet of an angel’s sin This world it lives in contradiction We found ourselves a brand new place Was it discovered that long ago Is it ours to hold, is it our creation? Lay yourself on down beside me Parallel to the city streets The tragedy started at home |