The Winter

Bronze nights beg him not to walk alone 

strangers pass a silhouette clone, showing no notion

as he's sunk to the songs of the ocean,

road lamps reveals the wrongs, of a following shadow,

whilst burning the street, so the red jacket can't be seen

rows of house doors retreat, lifeless leaves hold his jeans

fallen from dead trees posing for a picture that wont be taken,

the tears of the ground wont be dry until a bright day awaken,

the wind wont let him look ahead, 

it knows its the past he will want to tread

the snow flakes dance alone through the sky

believing in the lie, they will lay with another

the signs point a way but he walks the other,

trains wait for him to sit an wait for her to wait for him

but he stands his path.