wasted sunsets

the day is gone

when the angels come to stay

and all the silent whispers

will be blown away

and lying in the corner

a pair of high heel shoes

hanging on the wall

gold and silver for the blues

one too many wasted sunsets

one too many for the road

and after dark the door is always open

hoping someone else will show

someone is waiting behind

an unlocked door

grey circles overhead empties

on the floor

the cracks in the walls have

grown too long

the slow hand is dragging on

afraid to meet the dawn

one too many wasted sunsets

one too many for the road

and after dark the door is always open

hoping someone else will show