Airliners

Somewhen in midnight
I’m turning into light
a bag of eggs and bread
swingin’ by my leg
shops glow in the gloom
the infinite bedroom
beneath the lap of moon

I peer at the displays
and they illuminate
the hollows of my face
the strip like radiates
a filth floor hasn’t heat
the fog’s like cotton sheet
to rest upon the street

As a ghost through the night
well I just might sight what I’m looking for
on the city floor
do you understand what I’m looking for?
And I try to spy a star in the sky
but the city glare
means even if I stare
I can’t see single one of them
but I can’t see too airliners

Somewhen in midnight
I’m turning into lights
the clouds begin to spit
a street is just a slit
above the shop a clock
a disk upon a block
I see that it has stopped.

I’m turning into light