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
Copyright © Robert Chirino 3rd | Year Posted 2015
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