I see worn out faces, tired feet in shoes, <br />Broken bottles, and dreams in a spoon, <br />I see hungry mouths, and bloodshot eyes, <br />Theres no room in the middle, no room in the sky. <br />All the wings have been clipped, every stitch shows, <br />I see angels and devils, together but all alone, <br />My eyes play tricks on me, I dont know whats real, <br />I've been caught under, the slow spinning wheel. <br />Everyone want the throne, but nobody stands up, <br />They just have the barmaid, come and fill up their cups, <br />I see a broken mirror, and a million sets of eyes, <br />They all look so different, but they are all mine. <br />And the swords have been drawn, looks like its time for war, <br />And everything is fair, when the blood hits the floor, <br />I see worn out faces, relentless dreams of the moon, <br />Empty pill bottles, and white lines of our doom. <br />And the empty wallets, try to pray to the lord, <br />The devil sings a song, as a one eyed troubador, <br />We all know fame and fortune, through the color T.V. screen, <br />But its turning black and white, theres no color inbetween <br />The sad and the happy, the stupid and the brave, <br />Good and evil, the sinners and the saved, <br />No theres no color in the middle, not anymore, <br />I cant tell if thats liquor, or blood down on the floor.<br /><br />Blaine McCanless<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-color-in-the-middle-america/
