My footprints over a velvet underground.

what I have now?
Let's see -
few words that don't match
the thoughts in my mind
and thoughts, whose meaning
I am unable to find

A voice shouting Sunday morning,
and the roof, which I haven't seen
for so long.
A velvet undergound,
where I am gagged and bound.

Oh he says again, "It's a restless feeling,
oh, it is wasted years, that you are dealing"

and I say (rather should say)
"wait, you idiot, let there be day.
You will hide then,
your brother will creep out of shadow.
because you are young and callow."

And because it is late.
because it is too late.

Sleep off now.
You fool!

Poet's Note: "Sunday Morning" by Velvet underground...Exquisite.
Late night scribbling...as always .. Rooobish.