Wary of enveloping pleasure,
to be taken as proper...

The road is swallowed
at a pace that has no grace...

Oh woe is me by candlelight
my body cold in awful plight...

It's not about heartache
nor emptiness...

Sanding down streets.
New York...

Loud voices in quiet places
put Darwin’s theory...

I'd ask for names
and how it felt to...

I wonder
I ponder...

I walk with blind accuracy
through the crowds...

In contemplation of decimation
I wonder if I'd dread...

Old ways come knocking
it’s no commotion...

I’m walking quite simply
roaming free without talking...