Three Weeks in the Desert

Did we ignore the warning signs. Clearer and brighter than days in the sun. And now we're running out of time. Limping and shuffling, painted and numbered. Relax in a chair, take a drink of future vistas, plains and the pavement. And I would like a snapshot of future amounts, future accounts. I'd like to take comfort in a rock solid idea. Like a children's race track, driving in circles, the basement as scenery. I'm tired waiting, my eyes, my will is self restraining. Unchained and unbroken. Unbowed and undefeated.