Friday Evening, After Eleven

Too tired, i thought io myself, to lance this wound again So I'll let the sufferings flow where no good tidings go And we'll call it a truce in the end. Oh, tell me once more, How this life of ours should go, Cause the words fall to the floor anyhow And the small town girl's turned penthouse femme fatale Oh but we knew how these city streets howl faux freedoms In the face of the soft-skinned and weak minds But mine's been all the weaker for believing poison is love And I drank the barrel dry till I went blind to the holy light Damn these tears and this darkness of soul But if that's the case babe, mine's been rolling in coal Oh, I ain't a scholar, nor master of schemes just a two-bit pauper with sprawling rock-candy dreams the letters don't fall into place like they did once before And I don't search for the gold in folk's smiles anymore I've been drowning in sin and the lifeblood of all lies Worst part's been hiding a lost soul behind brown eyes Tell me honey, how's life been to you? Well, the winds tell me the sound's still alive and well Ah, but the wind ain't so kind in the dark when your wrapped in loneliness And broken strings on a battered guitar have lost the will to tell the tale New strings sell good, but you pay with your heart Aren't we running out of pieces by now ? Well baby, meet me on the corner of 5th and eternity beyond Of the hope and fiery passion we learned to burn in till we went wild And can you find your way back to the stars babe? And can you take me back to our unscarred years before we spilled the blood of dreams not yet born Are you ready mama? Whisper it to me low... In that voice of a longin soul... Let's go. © Robert