Peel Street

We walk ten thousand paces

of life; in the claustrophobia,

we all come face to face.

Faces, walls, façades:

face of a wall, another brick

in the wall, another shop

in a mall, and the

peace, and the

pieces

- they come together.

But all the paint, and all the

scaffolding that wore;

all the words that people left

for the photographs, home or away

- there must be, there must be 

a way, some

way.

Where once "we go again" rang true,

but now you can't put a finger

on where you're going to;

not again, never a gain,

all ways, always

loss.