From Central park towards the Statesman
building
(It’s not the yellow brick road)
Her dress flutters against the wind
With music in her ears she walks right to
the beat
Where she walks now
She has walked a thousand times before
She tries to distract the rogue tears
Fiddling with her little satchel
That swings with her every stride
Smiling to herself, behind cloudy eyes
She never regrets walking on that road
Which she had walked a thousand times
before
She carries with her the smoky autumn air
When she owned the night
Along with the unforgiving rain
When time wasn’t on her side
Each time the seasons were different on
this road
Which she has walked a thousand times
before
She twitches to look around, but knows
No eyes wait for her to turn back
She keeps the music loud
As there is no voice calling her name
But, out of habit, looks for a familiar
face, on the road
Which she has walked a thousand times
before
As she keeps one foot in front of another
The same old road is strange once more
There is no destination
No coming and going after all
On this road
Which she has walked a thousand times
before
She walks the road
Which she has walked a
thousand times before
Knowing there is nowhere she can
go
She walks the road knowing there is nowhere she can go
Knowing there is nowhere she can go
She walks...
