Reflections on a Sunday

A quiet Sunday afternoon sitting in this room
Contemplating why all the gloom?
Just as peaceful as a tomb
And as silent as an opaque moon,

When does it all end?
Will I ever find another friend?
Where are those messages she sends?
Broken hearts don't ever quite mend,

Dreams of impossible things to come
So many teardrops begin to run
When was the last time I had fun?
Then I hear those echoes behind the sun,

Haunted by all the mistkes I made
Not every personal debt gets paid
Seems there's rain on my parade
Just give me comfort in the shade,

Karma can be a life of hell
I fell short of the wishing well
We all live in fragile shells
But only time will surely tell,

My humiliating fall from grace
The smell of perfumed lace
All those lost souls without a trace
Was it ever worth the futile chase?

A Sunday that will reflect
How beautifully you were imperfect
Where logic and emtions intersect
I never intended to be your project,

All the love that we gave
Was it ever enough to save
Our beloved from the shadow of the grave
Seems we're living our lives enslaved,

Yes it's Sunday afternoon
When will our nation be exhumed
Seems there's always a sense of doom
God please let our freedom bloom.