Irish Stew Of Sindidun


Please welcome the future in a city of grigs
There's only a mud to wrestle the pigs
No more old streets where he made his first steps
Where dear childish memories and secrets were kept

New shiny homes for new shiny homeless
Are built every minute, reliving their dreams
But he who lived there, he was left hopeless
To witness new world, blinded by gleam

A stranger in his town, a king with a rusty crown
Defies the wind blowing pieces of an old crumbled heart
A stranger in his hometown keeps turning face around
Bitter-sweet is the taste of the ones who frown at a stranger in this town

Sun spread last rays across dirty river
Escaped the horizon to bring the smell of rain
Cold chained his heart and left him to shiver
And face one more night to spend whole in vain

He dreamt of her hair as golden as wheat
And a kiss that is buried down the old street
Now every new morning is woven by grief
In a place paved with marble, with no one to greet

Author: Bojan Petrovic