A Trace of Me
Woke up this morning and looked around the room, everything out place,
Too tired to move, but I find my feet, in the mirror I see, a trace of me,
The streets are bustling with bodies, all with hopes and dreams, quiet plans and distorted schemes,
An old woman sipping her morning coffee, reflections in the window, I see a trace of me,
A light rain on a sunny day, the streets empty quickly, for a moment the noise of the city dims,
Check my pockets for loose change, drop some in a hat, in a tired smile I see, a trace of me.