amalgamation of various trundlings (ok walking, there were no wheels involved)
Lyrics
on a walk about, a walk around
city streets and night
watching all the traffic there
and their pretty lights
motion sensored high beams
in audio relief
magic in the sirens calling
chasers to their feet
peering at the footsteps
left behind on ice
waiting at the corner
for the hand to turn to white
red in all the papers
where green was said to be
eyes front to warn of distance
and conflicted imagery
tunneling thru the engine noise
wading thru the sights
multispectred valances
balancing their rights
shades of one inch plastic
covering those thoughts
blinded in the memories
high lited by the frost
snow flaking off in difference
where the world turns white
holding onto chalices
while watering the whine
days of endless tenure
tender spots of trust
ashing in significance
the wailing of the dust
