Take the minute hand
Move it back to yesterday
Maybe you'll see me

Death projected itself from his mouth,
Silently parting his lips in the form of a cigarette,
And I couldn't tell if it was smoke or desire,
that burned my breathless lungs
with a flame-less fire.

And I thought that if he saw me, he would laugh,
Laugh at me under my own duress.
But he caught my stare, and stared back.
James Dean with eyes like thunder
And a smirk that could **** more than his own cigarette.

He held my hand and whispered -
So softly in my ear,
That when the night is old,
Youthfulness would reappear.
Youthfulness? I questioned.
He nodded carefully.
Said when the morning light is new
Youth would come for me.
I waited for the dawn to wake,
Waited sullenly;
And watched the moonlight dancing,
As it crept amongst the trees.
The moon had ceased it's shining.
It had hid behind a cloud,
And the man began his sighing
Waiting for the sun to come around.
I looked towards the hills
That wandered in the East
And counted every minute
That I had dared to keep.
He squeezed my hand so tightly
My wrinkles all bunched up,
Said don't you worry darling,
The light will soon erupt.
And so there was the sun,
The hills had hid so long.
They had kept the colors,
Holding back their song.
The youthfulness was here now.
I cried until I knew,
That youthfulness was only
For the morning that woke anew.

Speak to me of the tales long ago,
The tales of the heroes, their misfortunes untold.
Talk of the ones who buried their sorrows,
Ignored all the old,
And lived for the morrow.