Analysis of nowhere blues

before vicious rows, before mornings, before nights
he'd think of no one else, passion put aside.
violently thrown through twisted corridors by the hands of time
deep blue moments to raging reds - framing their artwork, once so vivid but changed like dunes
he looks at it weeping.

major chords rejected but double the feeling, a saxophone cries
he is the instrument, breathes emotion to life on sombre afternoons
burgundy leaves rattle in the wind, some bypassers repelled by his reality looking away.
if only he had the chance - he will think- if only...

sometimes angry and breathing heavy, sitting alone on a bench by a wall
his fingers tremble like machines - unreal - and streams form on his cheeks
tiny stars hidden in his mind sparkle, almost visible behind ominous clouds
was there a love?
was there a now?
he knows there was.
now everything was lost, now continents were formed, never to collide again
and all the while a great lightwork unseen play across the sky.