I heard you are running out of time
you love her
but she says its a crime
running out of dime
lifes bitter like a lime
and all of these feelings
are glued to your ceiling
and you are lying beneath
inside of your bed
yes
you are dead already

Rise and Bind
she is a moon
you are the tide
Rise and Bind
your heartbroken heart
your mindless mind

i know you love it when you hide
and everybody knows you don't want to fight
a ringing of a chime
telling you that your deserts running dry
she shook me up
turned me down
till no one was around
and you are going wild
turning into a monster
crying like a child

Rise and Bind
She is the darkness
you are the light
Rise and Bind
Turn it off
break it down
Dying to be alive

we belong together
maybe as friends,
maybe as lovers
but god do i hope it's the latter

A gray day – cool, frost will come tonight.
And in the coolness they arrange the scene,
Just so during the waning light of day.

A scene of Christmastime, wreaths and lights
Adorn the doors and window frames.
Wealth and solidarity, joy and love I see in them.

They pose now before their work.
The camera snaps,
Their well-being so obviously displayed.

In the future they will go each by each,
Yet bound by such events
A family they will forever be.

Of that family I so record
In these observations from afar.
Now pray a grace protects them from the likes of me.

The finger pointing at the moon,the steeple reaching to the skies;
Logic ,love and wisdom tries to pierce the gloom, to open eyes.
'Look up!' They say, 'Look over there!'
No! Look within now if you dare
To find the truth that's lying there.
The dons, the poets, the dance and the myths clear some of the way, but sadly miss
The heart of the thing
- just get the gist..........

First the moon, then the man full of awe, then the priest and the sage and the artist to draw
Out the meaning and help us to know what a small speck we are
In this infinite show.

Sing to the moon and dance through the night
Then look to yourself to see if you're right.

The myths are the map, the Dons hold the light, but the moon's ever there , perpetual and bright.
Unpick the poems, dissect the finger, deconstruct the song and analyse the singer,
Love the garden and crown the *****, praise the soil for the flowers he's made.
It's a great 'Whodunnit' a wonderful game, with the usual suspects guessing the name
Of the power behind it; the fame or the blame.

Sing to the moon and dance through the night.
Look to the heavens to see if you're right.
The myths are the maps, the dons hold the light
But the moon will be there
Perpetual and bright.