Dreary

Everything is quiet and bleak.

It’s all gray skies, and nothing unique.

The town is filled with boring faces,

Many different people, but very few races.

Ah, yes, such a boring little town,

And yet, I feel no reason to leave this place.

My store, ever so quiet, the church so empty.

And yet, I can’t make myself hate the solemn pace.

These skies, whose gray clouds shields my eyes,

The familiar people and their familiar lies,

It’s all me, and I am all of them.

No one is different, odd, or corrupted by sin.

I see the other town, just over the fence,

The people are different, the people are strange.

They do things in a way that I could never understand.

They treat life as if it’s some sort of game.

The sing and they dance and their sky is blue.

I can’t understand, it’s not what I’m used to.

I’ll keep my gray sky, my boring face and dreary town.

I’ll forever shield my eyes, and keep my head down.

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