Something's broken and I can't quite put my finger on it
It was running fine for such a long time
I didn't drop it, I swear!

A flywheel must have jammed somewhere
One of the cogs out of place
The gears that meshed now just grind
And the **** thing won't wind
Or rewind
I didn't drop it I swear...

But the Watchmaker knows what He's doing
Something's broken and I can't put my fingers to it
But His hands know their work
We were made for more than to tick the hours of the day

Something's cracked and I can't hold the piece in place
Every time I try another one falls off in its stead
All packed in the same cardboard box
Heading off to the same place
It's dark and we *****
We feel around long enough to see not a single one undamaged
We all know where we're headed

And the pieces held perfect by Hands we cannot see give us hope.

Save it.

Save it for later, my dear.

What doesn't break the dawn will surely not delay its coming
You do not crash the waves against the jagged rocks with your hands
You are not the smooth foam washing over pebbles
Rolling them rounder with your fingertips so

Stop trying.

We are two comets colliding in the dark, in this cold and we light up for one brief moment
And I see your face and it is precious like the stars that formed

Us...

Time treats us like two ghost trains sharing the track
And I head east trailing west
And you head west trailing east
While we forget that if you keep going and see the world long enough
Looking back through your rear view mirror
When you've gone far and away to see half of all its got
East becomes west again

I'll share my half over dinner, on this plate that we call life
We are two trains still set to collide so

Stop trying.

I hope you have someone's hand to hold when you need to feel the sky
Even if it is your own
Hands clasped in prayer
Your hands are clasped in something greater

And when loneliness gnaws
Let it sit
In the corner by itself
The fireplace in a warm embrace
Only has room for your glow

Do not take out that old photograph
Nothing happens for a reason but the
reasons we give it will suffice

And do not say the best has come and gone
Our lives do not balance on the razor's edge of self-pity
The old photograph will fade and take faces with it
But the ones we take today still glossy and drenched in sweetness
Hold close by in your heart

Maybe make a little room too
The scrapbook with pressed flowers still not full
The ones you haven't taken are the
prettiest ones yet