Tropicana

A heart of shaded memories,
A mind of bleeding dreams-
Colors of tomorrows past,
Grays, pastels, and creams.

Little men in neon suits,
A bike without a wheel-
Emotional rivers & empty streets,
A boy that does not feel.

A lying tongue and fibbing lips,
Golden, deceiving eyes-
Tropicana, no pulp please,
Little coos and cries.

Don't tell me that you understand,
Don't act as if you know-
You're holding on to all that's passed,
It's time now to let go.