Constant waves hitting my shores,
Dramatic changes occurring,
A solo guitar man performing a blues melody,
An old man moving his feet to the rhythm,
A tattooed girl posturing on the wooden bench, alone.
She was a pastel from my past.
I often asked about her mane,
But the crowd told me that she never spoke.
I hit the subway each morning just to see her,
I wait until she disappears behind that electric door.
Love can be fulfilled in unusual ways.
One day she's gone,
Her seat was empty.
I search for her, I approach her place trying to grasp her smell.
But, other faces had replaced her.
The pastel faded, so did my heart.
I keep coming back.
Maybe I will spot her behind the shades of reality.
I lost my heart there, and I lost my dreams.