Cycling

Somedays
It feels like I’m made to help out
Like my cells are useful 
To how this works out 

I’m seeing again 
All these curving patterns
Of care and yearning 
Like the rings of Saturn 

But all of a sudden
Like a hand that pulls my ankle through a drain 
I feel a stirring 
Where all words are false and touch is only good for pain 

It only feels like I’m flying 
When I dart my way out of the smoke
From the back of a rubbish truck 
On the brink of throwing up the city chokes

And I lift up my hand 
To my forehead soak the sweat with my sleeve
When I say with my face red
Yeah I look beautiful to me 

But cutting a corner
Stands a pile up from the blindness of the rain
And I feel a stirring 
Where all words are false and touch is only good for pain