Smaller Buildings

When I first got here
The buildings were short

Two, three stories high--tops
And the roads...

I don't feel like there were that many roads

Then again, there weren't as many places to go

I remember waking up here
Not coming here
Not traveling, so to speak

Just opened my eyes
And I was...here

Sitting on a park bench
Listening to a violinist play
Two feet from me

A bucket in front of him
Saying--'Thoughts?'

Written with a question mark
As in--Do you have any?

I went to the nearest phone
And called my mother

Mom, I'm here
Come get me

Where?

What do you mean 'where?'

Here

I'm here

She hung up on me

I thought maybe she didn't believe me
So I called back
No answer

Never an answer again

I started walking
Towards the edge of the city
Thinking...

I'd get outside the limits
And see something familiar
See a sign or a landmark
That'd remind me
Of how to get home

But I'd get three steps forward
And I'd be back at the bench

Back listening to the violin

Eventually the buildings got taller
The roads multiplied
The violin stopped playing

I sit on this bench
And talk to myself

People say it's crazy
I say silence is crazy

I say when you stop feeling the urge to make noise
You've really lost it

So I talk, I babble, I mumble
But I don't shut up

I have no urge
To descend into the silence

To fall back into the shadows
Of the ever-growing buildings

So I find a patch of light
Strangely enough
There's one right over the bench where I sit

And I wait for someone to tell me the way out