Until The Dawn

When the streets are filled with the pale orange light,

Darkened corners, trash cans,

Alone to walk the streets that remember nothing,

See nothing and feel nothing.

The night is unreal, chaotic and churning maelstrom,

A secretive mistress with a hidden agenda,

A revolt in a pure heart,

A destruction.

Dreams are only wishful thinking of a dying breed,

Night after night conjuring pictures, whilst

Doing nothing but wishing everything

And only waiting for the dawn

That may come too early or too late,

Too fast or too slow,

But for us - never quick enough.

And when the night is at its darkest, every window

Hides the curious eyes that carefully watch the lone

Wanderer,

Walking the filthy streets with his head down

And eyes closed,

Wondering and waiting for the dawn

That never comes.