Why Don't I Sit There?
On narrow ways to strangenamed places
like a leaf blown away in the soft breeze,
I helplessly watch myself duplicate
On greenest grasscoloured field my paces
lead my mind where it will be pleased,
I will no longer hesitate
Look at me whirling away,
observing the weird images,
like an abyss of lost souls
My mind is in that delay,
oh how the feeling lingers
I have no control
I'm on the wrong side of this fence here,
there is no way around it
I can't believe I let you be my guide
I know I'm fooled now that I see clear,
the warning lamp is being lit
I squint and make me disappear
Look at me whirling away,
observing the weird images,
like an abyss of lost souls
I close my eyes and I pray
for something to make changes,
something to take away the holes
As I sit here
it confuses me;
Why don't I sit there?
Or nowhere?
Words and music © 1995/98 Johan Åstrand
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The Top of the Chair
When I sit home at night,
my red eyes reflecting my mind,
with all pictures flickering by on the T.V,
I still can't understand
what they're shouting about
And what's the point, I'm still without
In my moments of doubt
when my slumber follows by cries
and I want to lie down and die by the T.V.
A memory from the past
recycles in my head;
to die is not a progress
Words and music © 1995/98 Johan Åstrand
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