A period of time I could never fully know
but can be brought back through it

A crowd of people decked out in dark
leaning on brick walls, one leg bent
foot against the wall

A different kind of world
that isn't mine
but could partly belong to me
if I listen hard enough
ponder hard enough
try to feel what they felt
through thick drums
and drony guitars cascading down their ridged walls

A voice of perplexion and fact
A world that seemed to blossom in their darkness

Vocals synching with solid baselines
with rhythm plucking in all the right holes
trying to hear connection
and
finding haunted hallways,
thick substances
layered on carpeted hotel hallways,
smears on sepia wallways

So many lifes
listened and moved
their heads from side to side
to Isolation

The trails of kisses they left
on that sidewalk wall
so many childhoods ago