Rioting quietly. We started fires and threw bricks.
Ignition. The rubbing together of two sticks.
Dead dog. New tricks. Left alone. Keep this right.
Looking for the cheapest flight and yet another sleepless night.
Bad dreams - the deepest fright. Endeavor through hallways.
Pitch-black, endless. Saying 'never' to always.
Once the doors open, the audience will file in.
Then you piano and I try to violin.
I fall to the floor in dementia and protest.
My job is to translate into a language that's grotesque.
Drowning in the open waters of frustration and frank rage.
It troubles the heart and I'm left staring at the blank page.
The distorted floor beneath me and blurry skies.
Hands that are on fire can't hide worried eyes.
The cold sets in, in the autumn of a hell
And I concentrate on the answer at the bottom of a well...
In exile...
In exile...
One more time forever for the mourner
Dressed in all-black and painted into a corner.
Rock-hard weeks compared to the soft minutes.
The few and far-between and words that are off limits.
The horses all ran away. They ran away. The birds dispelled.
Eyes that may never make contact and words withheld.
All the cats are black and the sidewalk's cracked.
I've been down so long, I don't know how to act.
Appearing real. Strangling the steering wheel and choking throttles.
Thinking the worst and drinking from broken bottles.
The deepest breath: held it in. A skeleton that grows twisted.
Are we reading from the right script? Tight-lipped and closed fisted.
Bearing a task. All the questions we're caring to ask
While keeping our guards up and wearing a mask.
Making art. The war being waged and taking part.
Seeing the stars fall and the sound of a breaking heart, like...
