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Take Me to the Hot-Air-Balloons
Take me back...
to that small room
with the white cabinets and shelves,
and the glasses hidden from view,
and the books that showed pictures
of stars, planets, and hot-air-balloons. Perhaps -- if you would be so glad --
take me back...
to sitting in that bath,
you know the one,
although... that chunk of the year
was an embarrassing dud.
Take me back to the greeneries
where the stony houses
acted as our audiences,
and we played until the dark of night,
admiring each other's legs.
In the end, it was always just...
futile worries over the future
that hurt the present,
but are WE really to blame?
When we are told, constantly --
never a breath wasted
towards any other avenues --
to think about "careers"?
In the end, it was all just a...
psychotic stress-game,
this life of applications
and cover-letters.
So, take me back...
to the fields where we would play.
Take me back... to huge basements,
unstratified video-games,
dark rooms, and hot-air-balloons.
© ryancier
to that small room
with the white cabinets and shelves,
and the glasses hidden from view,
and the books that showed pictures
of stars, planets, and hot-air-balloons. Perhaps -- if you would be so glad --
take me back...
to sitting in that bath,
you know the one,
although... that chunk of the year
was an embarrassing dud.
Take me back to the greeneries
where the stony houses
acted as our audiences,
and we played until the dark of night,
admiring each other's legs.
In the end, it was always just...
futile worries over the future
that hurt the present,
but are WE really to blame?
When we are told, constantly --
never a breath wasted
towards any other avenues --
to think about "careers"?
In the end, it was all just a...
psychotic stress-game,
this life of applications
and cover-letters.
So, take me back...
to the fields where we would play.
Take me back... to huge basements,
unstratified video-games,
dark rooms, and hot-air-balloons.
© ryancier
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