roaming

yah i'm roaming through this city
looking for some place to cry
someplace to try my new voice
somewhere to live, anywhere to lie

i'm looking up at you, trying to see why
you wanna' walk on all over top of me
i know you wanna laugh at me until i die
you wanna' hit me again, you wanna' make me fly

something doesn't fit right in here
the puzzle makes no sense to me
i'm trying to see what comes next
i'm trying to figure out what's left

yeah i'm trying to calm down
trying so hard to know
to find out what this all means
to know where to go

i'm looking for anyway out of here
looking for someone to see
to know you for your true colours
to know me for me

no, something doesn't fit in right here
these pieces just won't sit
i'm looking for my next fix
i'm looking for just one more kick

still i'm roaming through this town
looking for any place to cry
anywhere to try my new voice
looking for somewhere to rest, anywhere to lie.

This is the last of three poems I wrote during finals week last winter, as I was camped out in the Drinko Library. My physical and emotional journeys in Huntington when I needed to run away from economics for a minute or two.