i want to play
they want to watch
i want my space
they want to touch
i want my peace
they want my blues
i want my soul
they want it, too
coming home
at 6pm
to cement steps
and traffic noise
it's all that's left
it's all i am
this old guitar
this broken voice
can i watch?
can i stay?
can i listen to you play?
can i witness?
can i know?
can i know?
can i?
no
you heard me right
that's what i said
you just keep strolling
home to bed
i am not here
to entertain
to make your pleasure
from my pain
i've a right
i've a choice
i've a place
i've a voice
on these steps
at the end
of this day
go away
other days
i've answered yes
i'm your jester
be my guest
but now it's no
and that's ok
i have my soul
i'm gonna play
© 1997 paula pryce