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Down the road of play.
We`ve all run along
Down this road of play
Today,
All to say.
There`s nothing there.
Old ghosts of no repair.
The illness is over
The soothsayer said the teddybear
Is told to stand and stare.
There`s nothing there
It`s fair to say.
It was a while ago
You told me so.
There`s nothing there.
Just old paranoia,
Circle in a square.
There`s nothing there.
What`s to compare.
Fools on a roundabout square.
Horses going up n` down,
Waiting for the clown
To dare say nothing at all,
Or is there?
poem
by
Peter Vealey
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