Someone is your TV guide & I'm just sittng there
A shoulder, a shelf & a weeping child
Some toys, a doll, perhaps a photograph
Someone is ringing at the door
There must be a shrine somewhere
Sand & dust on the ground
A winter, a summer
A place where nobody stands there
A silence on the tape, certainly a gap
Steel strings don't sound the same
A table, a chair, a few words
Three people in an empty room
Three people on the stairs
No one can't fall the same
There was a plot here
Is there anything emptier
Than the body you were promised
I learned nothing
Someone is your TV guide & I'm just sittng there
A shoulder, a shelf & a weeping child
Some toys, a doll, perhaps a photograh
Who's living upstairs?


(c) Jean Marie Mathoul