No Ideas

Verse 1

We met under our darkened skies, humming

our own lullabies, that 

sent the stormy clouds chasing.

With our shadows tailing behind us, in

Must we take the road displayed to us now,

With trim and tidy hedges to our side?

Curated by the hands that don't allow?

The hands that act if yesterday we died.

And if beyond we go this dreary road,

The mirror

It speaks now.

Always talking, 

exclaiming, a

constant reminder of the things

that were.

Its image, changing,

sends me back.