Of Raindrops and Broken Umbrellas

Because things of the old will never be good enough
It tumbles and dries - all rough and tough
The shadows of yonder recede into the stiffled laughs
My hands bleed from the tightened cuffs

It goes through the hammer anvil and stirrup
But not once do the sounds echo - or even ever register
The blue liquid overspills the borders of the cup
Maybe I wish them away, sweep them under

And so the salt dries on the sand bank
The sea weeds dead, the grime settled and sank
The water seems clear, almost crystal like a smile
But maybe only for that while...

Maybe all I was asking for were words far too taboo
Maybe in my mind I was scared of hearing them too
To plead and ask for another breath
Is there anything to give - anything left

We look but don't see
We talk but never perceive
The invisible tears and broken walls
The fateful day the Berlin falls

Of raindrops and broken umbrellas
Of broken bicycles and catastrophized cars
Mangled in the ruins of a tomorrow just a minute away
Again I hear the all too familiar beep

... and all over again drift off to sleep ...