A Postcard From Berlin by Marner and Temple

I'm writing this postcard from Berlin,
Telling you the state my life is in.
I sat at the Burgomeister's table.
I made it here first,
But then again, I was able.
Do you know?

I took in a world class symphony,
Laughing at the mediocrity.
Being a first-rate compromiser
Got you where you are
But didn't make you any wiser.
Do you know?

I see the wheel in spin.
I hear the pitter-patter of your feet as you're running away.
You're running away again
From what lies within.
You'll hop up on your bad bike,
Most likely riding away,
When you could have had the best.

Letters for occupant.
You hear the dulcet tones of your voice as your world becomes changed.
You're reveling in your youth,
Won't face the stark truth.
Voices and butterflies
Tell you lies that you believe,
Though they put you to the test.

Don't wake the stillborn child.
It doesn't want to hear you when you scream as you're falling away.
You're hiding behind a tree
From reality.
You're in comfort--won't risk--
Still whisking your life away.
Will you come to understand?

The muse is back for me.
It sings with bitter laughter at your pain as you're running away.
I beg into the cold
For your future gold.
If the green you abjure from,
Most surely, you'll have your needs,
As you know was upstairs planned.

The world was laughing at me,
But I've realized my dreams and more.
We could have realized yours.

I'm writing a postcard from Berlin.