Strolling in the middle
Streetlights, fiberglass
Steel and concrete surround
Echoing, persistent, loud
The footsteps of the crowd

Each has their own destination
Preordained locations
Mysterious strangers
Lovers and haters, playing
Making no sound

Out of luck, out of time
You just might hear someone
Crash their symbols, loud

Crying out to be heard
Crying out in a tan sea
Crying out in the crowd

The tan sea
It drowns out all sound
We walk in a sea
That drowns out all sound

Invisible beaters
Steady the streets
Arrhythmic heartbeats fade
In the bass rhythm
Life lay’s down

Melodious individuals
Dropping ghost strokes
Lamenting consistency
Of scales and beats
They’re bound to repeat

Out of luck, out of time
You might just hear someone
Crash their symbols, loud

Crying to be heard
Crying out in a sea of tan
Crying out in a crowd

The tan sea
It drowns out all sound
We walk in a sea
That drowns out all sound

March, March, March
To the funeral procession sound
Playing, singing, screaming
Drowning sea of tan
Percussion of the crowd

© Scott Harris, 2008

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