First Light

That potent sense of disconnect
It follows him, or so he suspects
You see, no where's ever felt like home
As hard as he's tried to call it his own

Infinite delirious mornings
He'll find himself on that window-ledge
Thoughts soundtracked by a choir of yearnings
Taking a first light walk along the edge

He tries to fix it, with drunken nights and blurry eyes
With crushing crowds and every elixir offered by the barman
Til his eyes are kaleidoscopes 
And he can scarcely tell what's real

But still - the violent disconnect refuses to heal.
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