As kids we played soldiers
sticks were our guns
our words were our bullets
we had hours of fun

The unanswered phone calls,
the unopened mail,
the half pack of cigarettes,
all witnessed the tale.

I know that you can see me
because you turn your eyes away
and I know that you can hear me
by the things you do not say
How can we be so far apart

When you picture your paradise
what do you see?
A guy with a pen and a pad 'neath a tree?
or perhaps there are footprints
marked in the sand

Another time, another place
perhaps then it would make sense
but for now its just too painful
watching you sit upon the fence
The timing was not ours to choose

Life really is too short
for all we should have done
and how wrong it is we chose to walk
in the race we could have run
But we closed our eyes and turned our heads

Its snowing again,
but getting stuck here without you hardly seems fair.
A foot at least.
Like we always talked about, the wind howling down the chimney, snow drifting up against the door.
Pointless really.

When finally the end arrives
will it be a blessed release
will the turmoil of this life we live
be at last replaced by peace
Will I say goodbye with dignity

You're looking old, my friend,
and if I may say, a little sad.
Such is the nature of the honesty
our chats have always had.
And now your looking tired too,

Surrounded by people,
isolated and alone.
A day to day that begs escape.
A shelter's not a home.
Passing strangers turn their heads,

I spend my days in ignorance
thinking everything's alright
Only to learn that "can we talk"
means "its time we had a fight"

We divert rivers for desert fountains
Mine the very souls of mountains
yet we cannot spare the cash to feed the poor

Election hopefuls promise lies

We were not part of your war
but just trying to live our life
myself and my two sons
my daughter and my wife

I'm over here, just look at me
acknowledge I exist
don't blindy shove your knife right in
and give a little twist
See I'm a real person too

What cruel twist of fate it is
that our paths were meant to cross
at a time when everything aligned
and conspired at our cost

Is it better to have loved and lost,
than never loved at all,
when the price of losing climbs so high,
and yet ignorance stays small?

A lack of motivation
Not knowing where to start
A desire for something different
pulling at my heart

What's the best thing about being me?
Well I could tell you one or two
but suffice to say, that on any day
the best thing about me, is you.

Is it wrong to say I miss you
Is it wrong to tell you so
To tell you that I think of you
Everywhere I go

There's a wall around my garden
and in that wall appeared a door
I've lived here many years now
but not noticed it before

Is it ironic
that the child with terrible handwriting
expresses himself better with the written word
than he does the spoken?

Looking for the forest
from deep within the trees
lost within frustration
again upon my knees