Lemontree

This one just fits so well!

I'm sitting here in the boring room
It's just another rainy Sunday afternoon
I'm wasting my time
I got nothing to do
I'm hanging around
I'm waiting for you
But nothing ever happens and I wonder

I'm driving around in my car
I'm driving too fast
I'm driving too far
I'd like to change my point of view
I feel so lonely
I'm waiting for you
But nothing ever happens and I wonder

I wonder how
I wonder why
Yesterday you told me 'bout the blue blue sky
And all that I can see is just a yellow lemon-tree
I'm turning my head up and down
I'm turning turning turning turning turning around
And all that I can see is just another lemon-tree

I'm sitting here
I miss the power
I'd like to go out taking a shower
But there's a heavy cloud inside my head
I feel so tired
Put myself into bed
Well, nothing ever happens and I wonder

Isolation is not good for me
Isolation I don't want to sit on the lemon-tree

I'm steppin' around in the desert of joy
Baby anyhow I'll get another toy
And everything will happen and you wonder

I wonder how
I wonder why
Yesterday you told me 'bout the blue blue sky
And all that I can see is just another lemon-tree
I'm turning my head up and down
I'm turning turning turning turning turning around
And all that I can see is just a yellow lemon-tree
And I wonder, wonder

I wonder how
I wonder why
Yesterday you told me 'bout the blue blue sky
And all that I can see, and all that I can see, and all that I can see
Is just a yellow lemon-tree

Days go by

We met when we did not yet know the meaning of that word. We stuck because, there was no one else more suitable around. And we were stuck, together, for years. Without need, out of habit. You could never point out what was wrong, though you always knew something was. (or maybe was not, I will never figure that one). Had our own strange equation. One's complex fed another: superiority, inferiority. Saprophyte and its host. But, both, symbiotically happy. (I cannot figure that one out too).
Days, months, years. Kindergarten, primary school, puberty, heartbreak, love. We saw it all together. I cannot say we stood together through all this, though we did share words. Some hollow, some well-worn. Summer treks, Monsoon umbrellas, in winter; steaming Maggi. This was where we were together. Sometimes studies, sometimes pranks, some stupid notes passed during class. An escape when parents went mad. Great songs, to be listened and sung. That's all that ever was. Or will be. ( I cannot still figure that one).
Lately, we tattered away, like some worn-out rag. PR exercises replace comradeship and formality disguises boredom. Faith is an illusion.

I fear to tread here

I fear to tread here. Everything becomes real. In script, in ink, hopes become goals; ideas, advertisements. I fear treading here.

I fear to tread here. Fear my writing, just prefer some brave one's book. My scrutiny of theirs haunts me when I write my own. I fear treading here.

I fear to tread here. Everyone becomes a bit of virtual space. The one thing I am running from; meaninglessness. I fear treading here.

I fear to tread here. My footprints will be washed away. Am strong enough to make them, but not quite to create an eternity. I fear treading here.