The Songs Remain the Same

What would you have me say
when every single day the songs
remain the same?

Songs that speak of thorns in one's side
and storms sailing in open eyes;
of streets that have no names.

Am I simply bad because I can't fade away?

What would you have me say
when the way never changes
and the roads don't shift?

If I could, I would drift into sleep
and forget the fire that cautions
all that dare to play with it?

I am plainly without you—
and I am lost like twisted fate.

What would you have me say
now that I am once again awake
after having yet another dream?

The very same one that's been
keeping the Sandman at bay
every night and day since March.

What else can I do but try
to play your anthems
as quietly as I can

until the Sun rises.