Fade

Come on in, I’ve gotta tell you what a state I’m in.
I’ve gotta tell you in my loudest tones.

— Coldplay, Warning Sign

*

Tell me that the sky is yellow,
that Honeysuckles come out in the biting cold,
that we live in a box no bigger than a bathroom.

Tell me everything you know,
of all the things you’ve been meaning to share,
everything you love about where you’ve been.

Tell me about the way people talk,
of the shops on the street and the parks nearby,
of the ratty old neighbor you only see on Wednesdays.

Tell me how you’re doing in this place,
where you’re going from here,
and whether all of the things we believe are true.

Tell me about a night out with the people you love,
where you go to see the city lights flicker,
where you’d roam to find the best gigs in town.

Tell me that it’s better this way,
that you’ve got no regrets and no worries,
and let me know that you’re alright.

Let me know that you’re alright.

RTH

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