The gas station tears

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It’s not from the rain, nor from the grey sky

It’s not from the clouds, and I can’t really say I get it – but why?

I’m parked at a gas station looking outside

Where the world plays the movie and I keep quiet and hide.

 

Sometimes everything is moving, but you’re the one standing still

Every day seems exactly the same

Like the clouds are on repeat and

There is a fire but there is no flame.

 

There are no answers to be found; the lights keep blinking in the distant world

And all I can promise myself

is that I can’t find it here.

 

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