The Place

My dream is beige
The floors are red
The atmosphere is cushion
It's safely dangerous

It's not candles
Its barely light
The smell is ignorant
And the taste is a few

It wasn't Eastern
Nor Western
It was a scene or two
On a big pixel wall

The dream had been forgotten
But an envious place was the memory
And then on a carbon road I remember
That I forgot again...