Standing at the window staring out into the rain
Past the point of caring who or what may be the blame
Innocent and guilty sometimes are one and the same
We don't make the rules, and yet we still must play the game
Standing on the corner waiting for the downtown bus
Sometime after midnight, by the frequency of trucks
The hour makes no difference when the minutes turn to rust
No one's left the light on or is waiting up for us
Standing at the streetlight for the green light to come on
Each moment takes us by surprise and then is too soon gone
You start out as a knight or queen, but end up just a pawn
A jockey left out in the dark on someone else's lawn
Standing in the doorway, with so many words unsaid
Each one an ultimatum or a summons to the dead
In print they seem so black and white, aloud they turn to red
Lines intended to inspire that fade to gray instead.
Standing at the window staring out into the night
Past the point of knowing between what is wrong and right
Doesn't really matter which side of the cause you fight
Justice isn't really blind, she's just run out of sight.
11 FEB 2007
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