When I was young I use to sit in my windowsill,
and smell the foundry late at night.
I could hear the rumble of the coal cars,
I could feel my parents fight.

Then I'd watch the trees dancing in the breeze,
while the moon played Peekaboo.
Life was just a game
on Maple Avenue.

And there were bright Winter mornings and long Summer nights,
but I never knew what they meant.
There were sermons on making time and money,
but it never made a dent.

Amid the factories there were dreams to please,
though you wondered if they'd ever come true.
It was hard to escape
from Maple Avenue.

Yet, somewhere inside of me,
where no one had ever been.
Below the goodness,
and above the sin.

Was a spark of silence,
that no one ever heard.
And I'd close my eyes and follow it
and savor every word.

And even without asking
it told me what to do.
It told me son, you've gotta run,
from Maple Avenue.

Now some of us were sinners,
none of us were saints.
Some of us were ***** and dreamless,
but we had no complaints.

We'd trade it all for just a glimpse
of what we might turn into.
But money only traded money
on Maple Avenue.

I've tried to get it all back again,
but it's not like it was before.
You can't come back into the pack,
when the ***** don't know her pups no more.

It's not a small thing for a man to die happy,
it's not a hard thing to do.
That's just one little thing I've learned
from Maple Avenue.

remember the days
(and some nights)
when we'd lie down
and just breathe
nothing more
nothing less
and every now and then
i'd trace little infinity signs
on your chest with the very tip
of my finger
and you'd be lost in the stars
while i was simply lost in the horizontal  figure eight on your chest
that was invisible to everyone else but myself

and that was what we were.

a pair of dreamers.

i've heard that you should never be with some one
too similar to you
and you see
that's what they all said we were
the same
but dear
we weren't
you were lost in
in the clouds, the sky, the stars
the unknown
while i was lost in you, your eyes, the invisible infinity sighs on your torso
the dream that had come true

and that's what you were.

a dream come true.

so please ignore the cliches
i was never one to be too original
but dont ignore what we were
just a pair of dreamers
similar in the fact that we had dreams
but distinctly different in the fact that while you dreamt about
fantasies and wishes
i dreamt  about you, the reality.

shiver'd awake,
no rain-guard on your tent.
beautiful to see the stars
when that drunk sends you spinning,
but it got cold. real cold.
the two of you went for
cigarettes. necessary,
after a blur'd night
with raiding raccoons.
****'d the night before,
****'d the morning after;
you were right hungover.
while gone,
i built the fire to cook.
(that fire,
that fire was my baby)
rations were raid'd
by wildlife in the night,
left were a can of
chili and some fritos.
knifed the top off can,
began breakfast.
your return brought
cigarettes,
hair of the dog,
excitement at the day beginning.
mention'd dog hair,
available only after
raccoon raids and sinking cans.
night prior we weren't
as drunk as i think.
i remember. i guess.
it fix'd us up, though,
as our immoderate breakfast hit home.

There's a keen and grim old huntsman
On a horse as white as snow;
Sometimes he is very swift
And sometimes he is slow.
But he never is at fault,
For he always hunts at view
And he rides without a halt
After you.

The huntsman's name is Death,
His horse's name is Time;
He is coming, he is coming
As I sit and write this rhyme;
He is coming, he is coming,
As you read the rhyme I write;
You can hear the hoof's low drumming
Day and night.

You can hear the distant drumming
As the clock goes tick-a-tack,
And the chiming of the hours
Is the music of his pack.
You may hardly note their growling
Underneath the noonday sun,
But at night you hear them howling
As they run.

And they never check or falter
For they never miss their ****;
Seasons change and systems alter,
But the hunt is running still.
Hark! the evening chime is playing,
O'er the long grey town it peals;
Don't you hear the death-hound baying
At your heels?

Where is there an earth or burrow?
Where a cover left for you?
A year, a week, perhaps to-morrow
Brings the Huntsman's death halloo!
Day by day he gains upon us,
And the most that we can claim
Is that when the hounds are on us
We die game.

And somewhere dwells the Master,
By whom it was decreed;
He sent the savage huntsman,
He bred the snow-white steed.
These hounds which run for ever,
He set them on your track;
He hears you scream, but never
Calls them back.

He does not heed our suing,
We never see his face;
He hunts to our undoing,
We thank him for the chase.
We thank him and we flatter,
We hope -- because we must --
But have we cause? No matter!
Let us trust!

I've done this before
the      d       i         s            t           a          n          c               e

game.

Must be something
special cause I swore
I'd never futs with
that again.

But here I am
marking days off my
calender     X     X     X
X     X      X

I thought I knew you, thought you tried, thought you loved me,
But who was I?
Who was I that was to be found, to be loved by someone like you,
Who was I?
I was broken,
I was used,
Turns out I still am, by the likes of you.

But who are you?
Who are you to tell me this, tell me that,
Tell me I can or cannot,
You hold me close, then just throw me afar,
I’m sick,
Just sick,
Sick of *******, sick of lies, sick of your ******* perfect guise.

I hate you so, I really do,
I swore to myself that I was through,
I swore, even though I knew, that I would just come back,
Come back to you,
You said you loved me,
Said it was true,
I said I did too,
I knew it was you,
Knew you were the one,
But you just got up and left,
Said you were done.

I fell apart,
I couldn’t take the fact that you tore my heart,
So I tore myself,
I tore myself wide open,
I made myself hurt,
Like you hurt me, but more physical,
I was in a denial,
I couldn’t handle what had happened,
I cut, I cried, but worst of all, I died,
I died,
Not in the literal sense of course,
But none the less, I died.

Then you came back,
Oh did you come back,
With your apologies, and your sweet loving embrace,
I couldn’t help it, my heart did start to race,
I felt that love, that passion, that fire,
My need for you was terribly dire,
I accepted your apology,
I didn’t think twice,
Then you did it again, but not so nice.

I couldn’t believe it happened again,
But now, thinking back on it now and then,
I realized you were to blame, not me,
You were to blame, for all the shame,
I did nothing wrong,
You were the one with the mental disorder,
Leaving scars and such all over,
You never physically hit me, but all the same,
You hit me where it hurts, all the emotional pain,
You said so many things, and you besmirched my name,
I knew that things would never be the same.

The cuts healed over, and so did all the other wounds,
My self-inflicted ones of course, not the ones from you,
I don’t know why you did this,
I still don’t to this day,
You came into my life, and left just like that,
You loved me then hated me at the drop of a hat,
I couldn’t stand it, apparently neither could you,
You just left me broken,
You left me without you.

I heard a cry in the night,
A thousand miles it came,
Sharp as a flash of light,
My name, my name!

It was your voice I heard,
You waked and loved me so—
I send you back this word,
I know, I know!