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The Crimea

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The Crimea

The 48A Waiting Steps

Born loser.
Born free,
with two left feet.
Born stupid.
Born drunk.
Born different,
to my fellow earthlings.

Born beneath that wondering star,
though I dont feel alone,
though I dont feel alone.

Way out where the ocean meets oblivion.
On a seat beside the pretty girl on the bus back home,
on the bus back home.

Born frightened,
born scared,
born in dispair.
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Born writer
that time forgot.
Born out of sin
with my fellow robots.

Swore I'd never get this far,
though I won't give up hope,
won't ever give up hope.

Way out where the ocean meets oblivion.
Drunken conversation, vicious undertone.
When you past your stop three quarters of an hour ago,
on a seat beside the pretty girl on the bus back home.
I won't, I won't I wont,

I won't feel alone,
I won't feel alone.