The bus
was late
This morning
I miss you

One step, one shot, one final breath.
I walk through war, I talk to death.
He never speaks, but I still know
Not yet, not yet. There's more to go.

I have wounded mine own heart,
Yet naught but blood it yields.
Shall I forever dwell apart,
In failure's barren fields?

Must this scar, so crimson-red,
Proclaim me weak and frail?
Or doth my spirit rise instead,
And let my torment sail?

Shall thou remain a failure evermore?
Or rise, and claim the strength thou had before?

I'd rather die young than fade into grey,
A song left unfinished, unsung to this day.

God willed my fate, but I’ve bent to none,
The drink I’ve spilled, the damage is done.

A flicker of a spark from the stone,
Flickers into ashes—let it burn.

Who's knocking at my window?
I hear you while I sleep!
Who dare disturb my own slumber!
Oh, it's only the birds,
The wind and the bare trees.
Still, I resent my bed,
The world wakes us for a reason.

If I am to die any time soon
Please, lord, let it be on a Sunday afternoon;
Let it be 15 degrees with a slight breeze;
Let it be under a soft sky with a purple hue;
Let it put an end to me feeling so blue;
As the aeroplane trails fade out of sight,
Let the blackbird song lull me into night.

I played that song when we set sail,
The vinyl crackled like the waves,
The sun was liquid, gold and pale,
And youth was something time forgave.

I played that song in someone's car,
A summer night, a borrowed sky,
We laughed like gods, we burned like stars,
We didn’t know we’d say goodbye.

Oh, how absurd, to plead with dawn,
To keep the past like souvenirs,
But tides will pull, and time moves on,
And songs will fade in salted ears.

Now every note’s a missing friend,
Now every chord’s a rusted chain,
Now every road that had no end
Leads only back to where I came.

So what’s the use? The moon won’t wait,
The sea won’t still, the car won’t start,
And youth, that liar, locks the gate
And leaves the key inside your heart.