The kindness of melancholy and the trusting stars
Of all sentries, within our slumbering sight
Whose watch was kept by a distant scout
Who held his peace, till death put out the light.

He hated the wind
It made him superstitious
How it carried things away, on whim
With a certain disarray, of sound

He howled back at the wind
With fear behind his eyes
But it backed him into corners
Attacked by stealth, and surprise

He sensed armies of dead spirits
Crept upon him, just to seize
But now age came more steadily
And overpowered, with disease

Please bury him where no wind will blow
And bend the bough, beneath the breeze
Prepare the plot with the softest dirt
To comfort old bones, with final ease

When the day comes that I must die
Run, just run away, when I've breathed my last
Don't stay and stab your eyes,
Run for sanctuary, run for peace;
Peace returns the day after next.

When I've departed and left you solitary
Run away, just find some other eyes,
Don't stay and lose another day
From this life, weeping for me;
Sanity is just around the corner.

When darkness comes to cover your days
Run, to any happiness you remember,
Don't give in, don't give up the fight;
Cause you're fighting for us all-
And there's nothing you can't conquer.

The crypts where no one talks at all,
Forever lying forever still
In their drawers, so very small-
Death to them's no bitter pill.

Not to them, who lie in state
And hear no noise, and see no thing;
They do not twist or cry at fate,
For every day is just the same.

They do not rue a life that's lost,
Or sit disturbed and wonder why
They can no longer count the cost
Or ponder that someday they die.

And those that grieve cannot perceive
That they too someday repose-
They cannot fathom why they breathe
For reasons only heaven knows.

A ribbon of notes float past the dawn
Childhood's gone, like a long-lost song;
Did you have to grow up, to find your place
And of that child, is there left one trace?

Their eyes are watching you, from the past
Why'd you have to grow up so fast?

Where are the prints from those tiny hands,
Busy with the work of becoming a man,
And where are the people who loved the child,
The innocent one, so sweet and mild?

Their eyes are watching you, from the past
Why'd you have to grow up so fast?

Putting all of childhood's things away,
You had to grow up and save the day,
Was it worth all the hurry and fuss
Along the way, what happened to trust?

Their eyes are watching you, from the past
Why'd you have to grow up so fast?

We hurry them up, from birth to death
Until they've got no time for breath
But something that precious should be cradled long,
Inside our hearts, like a perfect song.

Adorn me with you,
With unashamed glimpses
Or lock me inside
Like some abandoned mine.

With prayer beads on lips,
Hearts beating like thunder
This lightning strikes fast
But the penance takes time.

Bewitchments abhor
A dry well, an anchor;
To fly free through thin air
Just pretend there's a savior.

In the chalice of heart
I poured out my wet petals,
Till your rose-silk of eyes
Found the mended way in.

The colored carousel is coming for me again
The roller coaster zigzags across my vision
My head thumps with it's own band inside
Pounding away on one side, wearing it down to bone
Colorful streamers follow it, but I can’t focus on them
The image shifts with each movement of the eyeballs.

Why do they always have to bang on the same spot?
I knock some holes in the wall with my head
The freakshow’s fat lady is on the other side, taking a bow
But it feels just like looking into a mirror.
In order to feel some control over the pain I'm privy to,
I tighten the vise on my temple a few turns

Then I bang my neck with a tire iron
Just for equal opportunity agony.
The dwarf man stares at that, as if I am the highlight of the show.
I start to do a little tap dance, but my head blasts off on it’s own,
As if out of a cannon, rocketing above the arena
Slowly turning in it’s bug-eyed orbit.
I remember just in time to tighten the noose and step off the chair,
To the excited howls of delight, from the crowd-
But the support gives, every time; it’s all part of the act.

Why do I always have to work so hard performing
To achieve what my body does without thinking?
The clowns are pointing at me and laughing now,
And the children want to know, what is it all for?
But now blood is in my eyes, and the striking of the clock
Makes my vision shake, so I lay down in the cool doom of twilight
And wait for the loud music to slowly dissipate.