Some Days
There seems to be a wall between us, now that the sun has gone down in the south, and all the words that I wish I'd said, go sailing down in the dark. Skylark comes a-calling in the night. Sentences come a-falling through the frightful flights and settle down to the soft walk talk. Sometimes we all fall down.
Other times we know that there is hope and salvation in the things that we think, and in that way we are like the butterfly escaping from its chrysalis, from the chains that bind it in its period of growth. Taken down to the street where the joker meets the thief, we see that the tables have turned and the stables where the horses eat their hay have all been burned.
Send me your message from over where you are, but make it in pieces that I have to decipher for that is the only way I can make any sense of it at all. The true word has never sounded so false. The landlord comes to collect his rent. Skies fill with the burning flames of hell. A glass ring shatters upon the finger of a king.
Gone are the times when men roamed free. Clumped together in the mud we find ourselves, and when one tries to break loose, all the others clamber to pull him back in, a jumble of crab claws in a barrel.
I won't have your sorrow.
There seems to be a wall between us, now that the sun has gone down in the south, and all the words that I wish I'd said, go sailing down in the dark. Skylark comes a-calling in the night. Sentences come a-falling through the frightful flights and settle down to the soft walk talk. Sometimes we all fall down.
Other times we know that there is hope and salvation in the things that we think, and in that way we are like the butterfly escaping from its chrysalis, from the chains that bind it in its period of growth. Taken down to the street where the joker meets the thief, we see that the tables have turned and the stables where the horses eat their hay have all been burned.
Send me your message from over where you are, but make it in pieces that I have to decipher for that is the only way I can make any sense of it at all. The true word has never sounded so false. The landlord comes to collect his rent. Skies fill with the burning flames of hell. A glass ring shatters upon the finger of a king.
Gone are the times when men roamed free. Clumped together in the mud we find ourselves, and when one tries to break loose, all the others clamber to pull him back in, a jumble of crab claws in a barrel.
I won't have your sorrow.
