Orange

Walking for miles
In untied shoes
An empty orange
Haze in the dark

Will it be?
Will it be everything I imagined?
Will it be?
Will it be everything I imagined?

Frozen hands
Packed tightly into pockets
Clouds of exhaust
Billow from the corners of the mouth and nose

How much longer?
How much longer must I wait?
How much longer?
How much longer must I wait?
For your mother to sleep

So how does it feel
To have your fantasies eaten alive?
And what does it mean, anyway
When all the pretense is so meaningless?