Straights Lines

There's a sound
Across the alley
Of cold metal
Touching skin
And you can see
If you look in her window
That she has gone and cut
Her hair again.

In straight lines

Those soft golden lights in the morning
Are now on her wooden floor
The wind has swept them through the apartment
She won't need them
Anymore

She's cut down
On her lovers
Though she still dreams
Of them at night
She's growing straight lines
Where once were flowers
She is streamlined,
She is making her way far from the light
To see the straight lines

She wants to cut through the circles
That she has lived in before
She wants to finally kill the delusions
She won't need them
Anymore.

But there's a sound
Across the alley
Of cold metal
Too close to the bone
And you can see
If you look in her window
The face of a woman

Finally alone.




~Suzanne Vega