Snowy Streets Alone

A lonely night spent standing in the street,
Snow landing softly at my feet,
No hopes or dreams can cure my pain anymore.

Standing, searching, trying to find,
Some simple peace I can claim mine,
Tired eyes and weary legs bring me home.

Searching for some semblance of Reason and Rhyme,
A sickness suffered outside time,
How do I know all things will be right?

The silent snow refuses to say,
Sing, song, fight, or pray,
I'm stuck ranting to the wind.

Lamplights sitting beside the street,
Greeting me every time we meet,
Playing my mind for the fool it is.

The stinging sensation of reality sets in,
A cold comparison of life in the dim,
I am lost, separated from sin,
Forgetting purpose, remembering where I've been.

My soul is frozen no progress made,
Fleeing the light of night for the darkness of day.

*smokes a cigarette*

You people better has Lennon, otherwise I'm having another one.

As soon as you're born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so ****ing crazy you can't follow their rules.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.

When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still ****ing peasants as far as I can see.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.

There's room at the top they are telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.

If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.

@ Ronnec. Stop emo-ing up the TD.


@ Boeing, whatta song!

I may just add my own.

We are young, we run green,
Keep our teeth, nice and clean,
See our friends, see the sights, feel alright,
We wake up, we go out, smoke a fag,
Put it out, see our friends,
See the sights, feel alright,

Are we like you?
I can't be sure,
Of the scene, as she turns,
We are strange in our worlds,

But we are young, we get by,
Can't go mad, ain't got time,
Sleep around, if we like,
But we're alright,
Got some cash, bought some wheels,
Took it out, 'cross the fields,
Lost control, hit a wall,
But we're alright,

Are we like you,
I can't be sure,
Of the scene, as she turns,
We are strange in our worlds,

But we are young, we run green,
Keep our teeth, nice and clean,
See our friends, see the sights, feel alright,

Are we like you,
I can't be sure,
Of the scene, as she turns,
We are strange in our world,

But we are young, we run green,
Keep our teeth, nice and clean,
See our friends, see the sights, feel alright.

I once wrote a lovely song
Luckily it isn't long

Thread reopened after a talk with the thread starter.

Also, moved to the arts section.

Wow I get depressed at night.

So how do you even right a poem? I just talked and that's what I got... how can I make it good, or at least better?