Lifeless

Where the sidewalk ends and the street begins
There's a tomb for the dreams of pedestrian
Lives that were passed by, born deep bleak.
We call that walk the march of time
And the sign above reads kismet street.

Well, there's somewhere past the azure
Curve of this restless earth where the souls
Of the meek find respite for the week.
Sanctuary for the weary, solace for misery,
And alabaster blossoms blowing in the breeze.

We wished upon the winking of marketer's stars
And now find that something in life is lacking.
The promises of Saturday morning's, superhero chic,
The nightshade kisses of lover's trysts. Instead there's
Just the womb, the breaths to the tomb and death's sudden teeth.