Not For Me

Not For Me

Ducked through the doorway, escaping the rain,

An empty movie house across from Broadway and Main.

Sticky floor, stale popcorn, and rows of empty seats,

There’s no one else around, so I put up my feet.

And looking up, I see:

Adventure, romance, and comic relief,

A hero’s daring rescue, somehow bloodless and brief,

A thrilling tale of terror that always ends happily,

But not for me.

Sleep, can I beg you to come here for me?

No, you just giggle as you dance out of reach.

Your little starfeet have kicked away the key,

And long, cold iron makes the cell complete.

And it’s built for me.

Sunshine just slid out through the holes in my face,

Now it’s dashing down the drain and searching for a better place,

Where the gentle radiation of a pretty girl’s smile lights the scene.

But it’s not for me,

I’ve read the name on the packaging.

It would be wrong to take what belongs

From the vessel where it’s plain to see:

It’s not for me.

Sunshine just slid out through the holes in my face,

Now it’s dashing down the drain and searching for a better place,

Where good fortune is a beacon just inside of where my eyes can reach,

But it’s not for me.