The rails.
I looked around for a bit, then realize everyone has the same expression.
Everyone has the same face and yet, at the same time, very different. People with the same problems involving different people have problems that seem like the worst thing in existence, and no one could understand them. But everyone has the same ones in a different scale, money, love, lost, happiness, friends, family, jobs, grief. There's always this feeling that there's something wrong, something to be miss or to look for.
Just by looking at their faces I can read their minds, realizing maybe none of them wanted to be there in the first place. They seem so miserable, so used to this so called “life”.
I can see how they let their age crushed their dreams and everybody is in a hurry all the time.
They pray for time to stop to avoid wrinkles, but everybody wants to grow up when they’re little.
Everyone has the same face and yet, at the same time, very different. People with the same problems involving different people have problems that seem like the worst thing in existence, and no one could understand them. But everyone has the same ones in a different scale, money, love, lost, happiness, friends, family, jobs, grief. There's always this feeling that there's something wrong, something to be miss or to look for.
Just by looking at their faces I can read their minds, realizing maybe none of them wanted to be there in the first place. They seem so miserable, so used to this so called “life”.
I can see how they let their age crushed their dreams and everybody is in a hurry all the time.
They pray for time to stop to avoid wrinkles, but everybody wants to grow up when they’re little.
Wishes upon wishes to make up for the time that has been given to us, gone with the twist of an eye.
Trying to do everything with this wristwatch to slow down and still be in hurry all day long, too tired to play catch.
Trying to do everything with this wristwatch to slow down and still be in hurry all day long, too tired to play catch.
And everyone is waiting.
They're rushed and they're waiting.
They spend they're life waiting
Waiting for the green light to go red or red to green. Waiting for the love of their lives, for an answer, for the train or for the day to end, so they'll go to sleep and start all over again. Waiting. Waiting for Friday like that's the best day of the week just to relax a little bit and still have no idea how to do that.
Standing still, standing anxious.
Waiting for the sun to come up or the night to come.
Waiting for the cold to go, and the summer not to be hot. For a chance or a kiss, waiting for a concert or a dream to land in their minds as softly as the spring. Waiting for a hug, for money, a day, a year. Waiting to be anyone else in other place with champagne and self-esteem. Waiting to be happy. Waiting for their hair to grow, I include myself in here, like that’s even a problem.
Waiting for the cold to go, and the summer not to be hot. For a chance or a kiss, waiting for a concert or a dream to land in their minds as softly as the spring. Waiting for a hug, for money, a day, a year. Waiting to be anyone else in other place with champagne and self-esteem. Waiting to be happy. Waiting for their hair to grow, I include myself in here, like that’s even a problem.
I guess if I think about this, I have only existential troubles.
I hear all the noise, all the drums, all the monsters locked up in a concrete jungle. I’m trynna see it from afar but I’m nothing but another number.
I include myself in all sorts of stuff, wondering if they’re meant for me.
Stuck in a rut.
Stuck in a thought.
Traveling miles to catch a breath, without a cough.
Reaching for the edge of the world, melting at the weight of a stone.
Even when they get what they want, they still want more or miss something else.
Not even stop for a minute to enjoy what is happening, and then, miss it when it happened.
Cause there's always something to be miss.
Cause there's always something to be miss.
Like time, a bliss, always a moment, with witnesses.
I wonder if I’m just like 'em
And I wonder why I don’t want to be like them. I know the reason but, who am I to determined what’s a good life or not?
Maybe some people are happy the way they are just by having what life gets them.
But not me
I want more
So much more I’m afraid I’m dooming myself.
And I wonder why I don’t want to be like them. I know the reason but, who am I to determined what’s a good life or not?
Maybe some people are happy the way they are just by having what life gets them.
But not me
I want more
So much more I’m afraid I’m dooming myself.
But I can’t help to need my freedom to be mine.
https://www.pinterest.es/pin/638877897154082145/ picture not mine.
