Entitled Record

I heard a record today from another life, one which seems so far away.

Sounds of unity, the outsider with impunity, so removed from today.

Older is only wiser because time brings change and open wounds.

Salt or suture, for the future, rotten roots or arisen fresh blooms.

 

Winding years move right along, how come I feel left behind?

The clock that ticks, thorns prick, rock solid broken mind.

Where was the fated turn, led me to be this god damn lost?

What direction, dark introspection, now I add up the costs.

 

Raging river of could, but I never would,

Awake in the pen, just tell me when?

I get to record entitled records like those sweet oldies again?

Thomas Spychalski 

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