I don't want to cry anymore But I can't remember how to laugh either The sun and the rain are gone And much of the colour has drained away Leaving a grey canvas that I recognise But don't want to hang on the wall Instead I'll hide it away in a cupboard And carry on, numb.
Sorrow blooms on our cheeks From time to time In a cloud of damp surrender And whilst ever present Is quickly devoured by a whale Of necessary denial
Yet let us not think That life is but a dark night And rather the brightest day Of carefree sunshine Occassionally dimmed By the bleak, fleeting shadows Cast by that breath-taking creature Merciful in its elusive nature
Fear is my mouse It scritters and scratches And furtively tap dances In the black when I'm Hoping and dreaming in the dark
His friend is a moth of self-doubt That hides from the day But flutters and bashes And flits at my eyelashes Whenever I turn out the light
Even the innocent tree Who can't help but sway in the wind Is guilty of tapping my window The glass is belief and the branch uncertainty The panes often shatter and let in the night.