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Sterile Empty Warehouse Sanctuary
Promises were made,
The brightest of the futures
The fame, the billions
The madness of being loved by all
And despite the fault of me
This sad bit of destiny
I suppose I was counting on it
To make me matter to anybody
And here I am, covered in ink
Working steady, doing all right
Yet I pine
To feel like a significant somebody
But for now, I'll take a break
Drink from the sink
Sit in the back
And stare out the windows
Enjoying the cool, the quiet
Dreaming of my time
To stand in front of everybody
And shine.
