The Day Of

The day came today and I woke up feeling empty
So I filled my favourite cup up with cola and watched the bus pass
And listened to the hard wood floor creaking beneath my feet
I got taller and grew more tired and so I put my coloured glasses on
And sang a good song that made me think of the yesterday that never happened

The day of today is one I see in tones of beige and green
With apples and tomatoes slowly decaying in the shiny kitchen bowls
I got tempted and fell asleep again
I don't remember what day it is, and I don't need to, I can just sleep until the dog leaves

As I walked down the street in midday, I watched a father teach his child how to ride a bike
And I passed the kids in skinny jeans and blue and black jackets
Wearing my old sweats and a sweater with a sign on it, beige - like my mood
And I went into a store, waited patiently in line and grew fond of being lost in space

I've walked here many times before today
And yet, today the air was fresher and warmer
I don't know that at any other point
Was the city in such a calm rhythm which I listened to, my ear to the eyes of wide

Whose were those eyes that stared me down before I could even get a good look?
It was capitalism encapsulated by old buildings, beautiful, yet sold
Rich in value, but the labels they wore were filled with steaming poetry
Written in a factory that manufactures style and generating false greatness

And I learned today, that you can be honest and loving and poetic
But in all these efforts, you must remain unapologetic and firm
I'm no attack dog, I only speak what's upon my fragile glass mind
And today, as any day, I missed my mother and my hometown, where they think I'm a star

Not because of fanfare, but because I carry myself that way
I've always carried myself that way and cried when all was said and done and no one was left
Not to applaud or serenade, but to hold and to whisper strong feelings I had to
They'd say I was gonna be a star, so I treated myself as a star even alll those years ago

Now, when I walk alone, down the street
No one knows who I am and if they knew, perhaps they wouldn't have cared
But I am reminded that my hair sweeps the wind and my feet fall over when my head starts spinning
There is too much of it everywhere, but even too much in fragments is too much in the end

As today, the day of my reclamation of my own story
Not for you, or from anybody really
I sit by the white gray windowsill and smile at my flowers
My patrner's away, working and being sheltered

And I? I want to travel to America and make them hear my thunder
Like a lion with a mouthguard, I watch from my window or the backseat
And I don't judge, I only spectate art and am moved by it and how it saves lives
It saved and enriched mine and now, I'm going out, pouring myself a glass of water

To take some time to wonder if we'll ever really burn this bluegreen ball down
And how may I do my part to prevent it, I love all the blue and green
Why would I want to end this love festival called growth
When there's so much to dance and cry about - a lot?

I am not the same and you know me less every day, unless you don't
Which is probably why you're listening to this, whatever this turns out to be
I am not happy as for a while I haven't been - but at least I'm free