We'll echo these sentiments
of tourists and cameras
while wandering hallways
and stumbling in rooms
it seems
that we're so caught up
I've said that so many times
that we don't hear the voice
saying all those important
things.
The random screaming
of drunken young men
making bad choices
keeps me
awake at night.
If I'm not from your end
and you aren't from mine
then how did we get here
this cornfield this place
how did we reach this
in a world full of possibilites?
What brought you to me?
What brought me to you?
My thoughts ramble
like an old man
I realize that it's annoying
Sometimes I wonder what
I'm doing here. And I don't
realize
that the pink umbrella
I borrowed from her
still
sits on my desktop.