deepundergroundpoetry.com
Tomorrow's song
How blind are the eyes that tomorrow can see,
yet how clear yesterday sees tomorrow.
A deaf ear hears the pain, the regret and always the sorrow.
The past dictates at a wicked rate, to forge, conspire and accumulate
the songs ill not sing tomorrow but truly heard yesterday are promised to be sung in the past.
When considered and loved it always shows that the lyrics were wrong anyway.
In an hour or less ill sway to a different beat the notes will find their way from my head and to my feet to carry me away from this tale of woe. To paint an image of happiness to suit heart of stone. Mine once shimmered a golden shade to allow my being to glow.
yet how clear yesterday sees tomorrow.
A deaf ear hears the pain, the regret and always the sorrow.
The past dictates at a wicked rate, to forge, conspire and accumulate
the songs ill not sing tomorrow but truly heard yesterday are promised to be sung in the past.
When considered and loved it always shows that the lyrics were wrong anyway.
In an hour or less ill sway to a different beat the notes will find their way from my head and to my feet to carry me away from this tale of woe. To paint an image of happiness to suit heart of stone. Mine once shimmered a golden shade to allow my being to glow.
Published 27th Jun 2015
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