When Traffic MovesYou hear about the low value of hate,
but you know you still see restriction.
Old men sit silently in a cold vacuum;
Who will acknowledge the affliction?
Take my body and you’ll take the moon.
Nothing wrong with that; at least not in this room.
The sky is frozen; the jet stream’s frosted over.
No thoughts of me and you; just duck and cover.
Tone it down and do it fast.
Play the role in which you were cast.
Speak all of the words that you know.
When traffic moves, it’s time to go.
You talked and all the audience heard,
but did anyone really listen?
The cold front rolls in, clear skies fade out.
Look at the freezing rain glisten.
You couldn’t stand good weather today.
The old men still have nothing to say.
For better or worse is neither here nor there.
Get in the car, but don’t go anywhere.
Put the top up and shut the doors.
No one remembers the words anymore.
Try to plug the gaps and hide the seams.
I doubt you would even recognize me.
Do you want to walk me home tonight?
Copyright (C) 2012 by Eric Landuyt