I wrote this after I had a dream last night.


She said "Pack your things.
We're moving to a
Place far away."

I lost myself the first day
In a thicket of grass
By the soccer field

I thought It'd be different
But it's all the same

I wanted my bed to be softer
And cushion my body

But it was harder
And demanded a rigider spine

We drove past the country side
Through the tinted sun

Eveything was silent inside the car
So contrived

The room was filled with dust
I opened the empty fridge

And took out an imaginary apple
I fingered its skin

I took a bite
It tasted like nothing

I expected her to exclaim:
"Welcome to our new home!"

But she sat down by the old sofa
And slept forever

The homewelcoming was a funeral of my memories
Quote by icaneatcatfood
On second thought, **** tuning forks. You best be carrying around a grand piano that was tuned by an Italian
Kinda shaky. You use "I" a lot, and that kind of bothers me. Try to use higher vocabulary when writing. Also, I don't see how this could be used in a song, I am just not feeling any rhythm.