You want scriptures.
I crave pictures.
The two of us are not compatible.
Cause if you say white,
I say grey.
Neither of us gets to eat, OK?
So don’t look glum when I offer to you,
This must end before we each do.
Its the truth even if we don’t want to admit,
Some day we will both be over it.
Parrellels and opposites.
On these stones we do sit.
Neither wants to say a word.
If we did would we be heard?
Chances are it is a no.
Even though the gaps so low.
Cause both of us are silent and loud.
As we drifted together like twin clouds.
On skies so blue that blinded eyes.
Far below somebody cries.
Whether through fear or great joy.
We can not judge that, boy.
For we are even more twisted.
In those ways we are also gifted.
Yet all our words just float away.
Lost even as they come our way.
Its like living in a cage of glass.
Neither of us gets a pass.
Just a space in which to scream.
Your look says you have also suffered the dream.
Like we did when we were young.
And spoke of tales that had been spun.
But those days are long gone.
Like a ballon that touches a prong.
So we should simply drift apart.
Reignite our own dosed sparks.
Though not to connect once done.
I fear that it would just go wrong.
Cause you want scriptures.
I crave pictures.
The two of us were never compatible.
Cause if you say white,
I say grey.
Neither of us will be OK.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 