She had a strong urge to walk barefoot on the city streets tonight. She can actually feel it in the soles of her feet, they almost burn hot and want to touch textures and feel the earth. Unfortunately it’s in the middle of February and the streets are frozen, even more than she could handle. She decides to walk around in her basement as a compromise, the dusty concrete cools and sends tingles up her spine. She don’t know where these urges come from, it’s almost like sex. It moves in cycles through her body on an almost predictable schedule. Peaking to the point where she just wants to run wild, other times it drops to a level where the thought of doing anything makes her cringe.

The yearning for another Sunday
Where dry winds drift through the dying branches
All for the look in her eyes
And the smell of last night lingers

Could it be said that I am here alone
Homeless within our city walls
A heart that beats a fast pace in the soul
Could only be heard by a stranger

Invisible to me
Invisible to anyone

Forget the time
It’s wandering past at break neck speed
All over this crowed street is trust
Wishing we all could get a little on our side

Wrong turns that force us into the right paths
Mistakes that turn a comic to tragedy
The dusty vision of you and I
Keeps my homeless heart still beating