I can remember looking down,
Out of my bedroom window in my apartment,
Trying to catch that elusive sunrise…
From my home on Cedar Village Drive…
Far removed from the ocean shores,
I hung my heart on those wooden doors.
Humble people, humble faces,
Humble neighborhoods, humble places,
I held them dear.
I sit, now, in my new abode,
Seeing it all erode.
I remember exactly where,
The lonely chair in the corner, where I sat and I peered,
Through panels of my bedroom window tier –
I saw near.
I saw far.
That window was my elevated pier,
A gas station sign in the distance was my north star.
In my loneliness, the only happiness I could find:
The early morning sunrise grazing the York city sky line.
Far removed from the ocean shore,
Join me on this mental tour.
Revel in the sights and sounds,
Waning street lights and small towns,
We’re about to arrive,
To antiquated grounds –
These are my memories from Cedar Village Drive.
The skies were always gray.
I stared into them, but never found heaven,
I looked for it the next day,
One day lead to another and paradise slipped away.
Far removed from the ocean shores,
I spent my weekends outdoors,
The forest behind my house was my release.
Sitting in the afternoon breeze, I drew the pine trees,
The dew hanging like crystal orbs on the evergreen,
Mother Nature, quieter then, than she’s ever been –
The clouds, cozily nesting, resting, on the hillside,
At times I wished for better days,
Now I cry for simpler times.
Something in me had not died,
Still alive,
In my old home on Cedar Village Drive.
Far removed from the ocean shore,
Join me on this mental tour.
Revel in the sights and sounds,
Waning street lights and small towns,
We’re about to arrive,
To antiquated grounds –
These are my memories from Cedar Village Drive.
Now, many people try, desperately, to turn the tides,
Only to be surprised, out of their guile, all the while,
That they were being taken for a ride…
Life indoors reflected my heart inside,
Cluttered by quiet, lonely and cramped,
I set up a fort of blankets and camped –
Far from the city lights, sirens, and street lamps,
I observed it all from a distance, where it’s safer.
I dove, head-first, into the world of the pen and paper,
With these tools I was able to create,
Writing poetry, I stayed up late,
Trying to etch my fate on this empty slate,
The words came and left my lair,
And my canvas remained bare.
But the experiences remained alive,
First reported, then rewritten,
Now recorded… deep within my mental vision.
These are my memories from Cedar Village Drive.
A decade ago, I moved,
From my home on Cedar Village Drive.
Far removed,
From my home on Cedar Village Drive.
A decade ago, I moved,
From my home on Cedar Village Drive.
Far removed,
From my home on Cedar Village Drive.
A decade ago, I moved,
From my home on Cedar Village Drive.
Far removed,
From my home on Cedar Village Drive.
Written by Thorne McFarlane (Fatal Dawn)
Out of my bedroom window in my apartment,
Trying to catch that elusive sunrise…
From my home on Cedar Village Drive…
Far removed from the ocean shores,
I hung my heart on those wooden doors.
Humble people, humble faces,
Humble neighborhoods, humble places,
I held them dear.
I sit, now, in my new abode,
Seeing it all erode.
I remember exactly where,
The lonely chair in the corner, where I sat and I peered,
Through panels of my bedroom window tier –
I saw near.
I saw far.
That window was my elevated pier,
A gas station sign in the distance was my north star.
In my loneliness, the only happiness I could find:
The early morning sunrise grazing the York city sky line.
Far removed from the ocean shore,
Join me on this mental tour.
Revel in the sights and sounds,
Waning street lights and small towns,
We’re about to arrive,
To antiquated grounds –
These are my memories from Cedar Village Drive.
The skies were always gray.
I stared into them, but never found heaven,
I looked for it the next day,
One day lead to another and paradise slipped away.
Far removed from the ocean shores,
I spent my weekends outdoors,
The forest behind my house was my release.
Sitting in the afternoon breeze, I drew the pine trees,
The dew hanging like crystal orbs on the evergreen,
Mother Nature, quieter then, than she’s ever been –
The clouds, cozily nesting, resting, on the hillside,
At times I wished for better days,
Now I cry for simpler times.
Something in me had not died,
Still alive,
In my old home on Cedar Village Drive.
Far removed from the ocean shore,
Join me on this mental tour.
Revel in the sights and sounds,
Waning street lights and small towns,
We’re about to arrive,
To antiquated grounds –
These are my memories from Cedar Village Drive.
Now, many people try, desperately, to turn the tides,
Only to be surprised, out of their guile, all the while,
That they were being taken for a ride…
Life indoors reflected my heart inside,
Cluttered by quiet, lonely and cramped,
I set up a fort of blankets and camped –
Far from the city lights, sirens, and street lamps,
I observed it all from a distance, where it’s safer.
I dove, head-first, into the world of the pen and paper,
With these tools I was able to create,
Writing poetry, I stayed up late,
Trying to etch my fate on this empty slate,
The words came and left my lair,
And my canvas remained bare.
But the experiences remained alive,
First reported, then rewritten,
Now recorded… deep within my mental vision.
These are my memories from Cedar Village Drive.
A decade ago, I moved,
From my home on Cedar Village Drive.
Far removed,
From my home on Cedar Village Drive.
A decade ago, I moved,
From my home on Cedar Village Drive.
Far removed,
From my home on Cedar Village Drive.
A decade ago, I moved,
From my home on Cedar Village Drive.
Far removed,
From my home on Cedar Village Drive.
Written by Thorne McFarlane (Fatal Dawn)
