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Dead End Street
Down at the end of dead end street,
Cold, down and feeling beat,
Trying to make sense of it all,
Sun rises burning red,
Visions spinning in my head,
Now every dead end street leads to me.
Blowing around in stormy weather,
Like a bunch of dead leaves,
I'd be a boarded up home,
I'd be a rusty old car sitting up on blocks,
And every dead end street leads to me.
On dead end street looking back in my rear view mirror,
The view used to be much clearer,
I want to see sunrise on the dead end street,
I want smiles from every body I meet,
Still every dead end street leads to me.
Copyright ©
Mark West
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