sitting on the swings
because the playground's still her thing
she floats in memories
daisy chains in hair
cries cutting through the summer air
is all so sensory
time flowing past her, endlessly
she could wait or couldn't she
to finally cut the lace
and leave this place
I'd spent my pocket money just to go with her
on her way
on that day
she went on a journey off to see the other world
walking down the roads
between the houses anecdotes
are coming to her mind
the little red machine
selling balls of tangerine
ragged and windows blind
time flowing past her, endlessly
she could wait or couldn't she
to finally cut the lace
and leave this place
I'd spent my pocket money just to go with her
on her way
on that day
she went on a journey off to see the other world