Wisdom

It is a stale kind of wisdom
Salty tears dripping in the night
All around us is electricity
A charge which resonates deep within
We coil our feet
Have a bitter longing for time
The leaves are dead and green
They line the ground
We walk over the same sites
Pick at the old wounds
Take the needle in our hands
It is a false charm
We sink and wave
All a class
Ripped clothes
Youth dwindling
A tart taste upon our lips.