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I've watched him walk away
to climbed the endless shallow side.
I've watched him holding on.
it was a thousand years, a thousand dreams,
a thousand endings with no goodbye.
He disappeared from me
as he climbed the highest peak of the dark mountain.
Let the mountain sleep in the past with all our bad dreams.
Was it a metaphor
for all the subtle ways that we'd grown apart?
Was it mortality
climbing him high right up the edge of his life?
Into the hands of a loving god,
or the raging void where we get torn apart?
With his hands in the air,
was it laughing or dancing
or only just trying to wave goodbye?
Did he said a prayer for me
as he climbed the highest peak of the dark mountain.
Let the mountain fall.
Strike me down until I can't go on.
Right now, let me fall down
under the ground.
Do we go on alone?
It felt like a thousand years.
It was a thousand miles away
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. . .
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From the fields of the burning wheat
To the corners of the black arcades
We hold our hands like cigarettes
Then we leave them dying in the grass
The road is running out
We see it over our shoulders with everything we've lost
Fields of flowers, balanced powers
They’re in the recession with everything we love
Freedom fading like voices ringing
I feel it drifting away
When you raise your head
And you fall down to your knees
While you wait for it
We’re running fast as we can
Down a street with no end
Last night I had a dream that we were floating in the sea
With flags all around but now the colors had washed out
They were left innocent and free
And there were bombers riding shotgun in the sky
They all turned into light and spread like stars
Across the trembling black night
They’re calling you now
So make the sign of the Southern Cross
And I will follow you down
Hills of wonder, rolling thunder
Off in the distance with everything we love
When you raise your head
And fall down to your knees
We’re running fast as we can
Down a street with no end
Take me home
Keep running fast as you can
Because there's no place to turn on a street with no end
(Still the bombs blast
And the bells ring
And flags fly
And we all keep on
Marching to heaven
To find out we all fall down again)
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. . .
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An Umbrella Fallen Into Fiction |
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Isolation Of A Light Source |
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Pure Birth And Loneliness |
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