Flashback.

Sitting alone in the middle of a room,
A flashback hits me and I'm in a balloon.
I'm floating about, I can't break free,
All the trips I've taken have caught up with me.
The sky is purple, the grass is pink,
I don't know what's going on, I can no longer think.

Maybe I'm a baby still in my mothers' womb,
Or already dead in an artificial tomb.
I see you on top of a hill the sun glistening in your hair,
But when I drift past you're no longer there.

What the hell's going on? How long will it last?
Am I in the future, the present or the past?

Now I am above an ocean, so deep and yellow,
I see myself drifting on raft looking stoned and mellow.
Another change, another time and place,
I've just seen the extinction of the human race.

A bird flies by and pecks at my bubble,
Now I'm free but falling and in deep, deep trouble.

I snap out of it before I meet my doom,
And I'm back,
Sitting alone,
In the middle of a room.

© Copyright ThePoet.co.uk 2004