Looking Through

When I look out my window each morning,

I see green as far as the eye can see. 

It's beautiful, for sure.

For everyone that is... but me.

The green keeps going for miles and miles,

Until it reaches a vast trailing river, 

But as I look out deeper and deeper,

I can't help myself... I just shiver.

When I look out my window each morning, 

I see ramblers passing, wrapped in coats so thick, 

Dogs trail beside them, leaving their mess on the driveway,

They have to be taking the mick?

The dog doesn't care, neither does the rambler,

All they see is a pretty little cottage, not a care,

But as they go on, I'm still stuck there,

Day by day, in this picturesque nightmare.

When I look out my window each morning, 

I see rain belting down, 

With such ferocity and power and hate,

Really, you can't help but frown.

If only the rain knew what it was doing to me,

Do you think it would care, like the walkers, or green?

I don't think they do, all they see is a postcard, 

Not me here in the window, since I was a teen.

When I look out my window each morning,

I see nothing at all.

A great white maw. Gaping. Screaming,

A whole way of life, it has to fall.

The activity, fleeting, a speck on a portrait,

An terrifying view, so oppressive it could shout,

But it's time I did something,

It's time I got out.

When I look out my window each morning,

I see hope for the time that's to come.

A time in my life, of progress, of movement,

It should, must, and will... be done.

A time when these views will be all good memories,

Not a trap, not a fear, 

Views I can cherish,

Long moments, I'll hold, so very, very dear.

When I look out of my window each morning,

I see a future that's ready to start,

Bursting at the seams with passion, with joy,

With all the power of my tiny little heart.

It's a view I once hated,

It's a view I now adore, 

But that future wouldn't be so bright,

If I didn't have the before.

Ryan Croughan is one of the unfortunate souls who keeps the Minor Spillage ship sailing. Sailing? Probably better to say paddling. As well as producing, he finds time to present and provide voiceovers. He also says he doesn't like the sound of his own voice. Bit odd really.