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When grief impounds our thinking and eats our brains, it seeps through all the cracks of our daily living. Only the soothing wind of comforting words may counter the withering twilight and the frostiness of darkness.
Erik Pevernagie, All the words he always wanted to tell her

You said you knew the perfect place to run to. A place that was empty of people, and buildings, and far, far away. A place covered in blood‐red earth and sleeping life. A place longing to come alive again. It's a place for disappearing, you'd said, a place for getting lost... and for getting found.
I'll take you there, you'd said.
And I could say that I agreed.
Lucy Christopher, Stolen: A Letter to My Captor

Standing in line, marking time
Waiting for the welfare dime
'Cause they can't buy a job
The man in the silk suit hurries by
As he catches the poor old ladies' eyes
Just for fun he says, “get a job”
That's just the way it is
Some things will never change
Bruce Hornsby, The Way It Is

Lullabies, look in your eyes,
Run around the same old town.
Doesn't mean that much to me
To mean that much to you.

I've been first and last
Look at how the time goes past.
But I'm all alone at last.
Rolling home to you.

Old man take a look at my life
I'm a lot like you
Neil Young, Old Man

Taxi, Harry Chapin

The Way It Is, Bruce Hornsby & The Range

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