A fork in the road, three ways to go
The rapturous traveler seeks to forge his own
This path you tread, is but a mirage
An empty husk; A hollow facade
I bought a dress, said she Black as the colour of the grime on your arms As you parley with the foreman for a quick break Only to sneak across the road from your workplace And steal a glance at me. I bought some lipstick, said she Red as the colour of my velvet lace To match your bloodstained handkerchief As you wipe your wounds dry I watch you yonder. I bought an earring silver, Silver as the stars tonight, silver as the glistening mist That settles upon the grass, come dawn, As I watch you leave yet again, To tire endlessly, afresh. I bought instruments and objects, galore And yet I have no use of them As I watch, nay, I stare, You toil intensely, anew, every single day. What use, pray tell, have I of riches, When they cannot buy me you?
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