No lies escapes someone's sharp mind.

Sunday mornings
come and go away.
I see the sadness
written on her face,
when she's lost in sleep
there's a language
that she speaks,
between her lips,
and the tears
staining the sheets.

I'm walking down
the railroad track.
I have a cigarette,
a bottle of jack,
and a wife at home
that thinks
I'm coming back.

I love the bird
Not because you loved him
But because he loved you too.

I loved the sky
Not for its colour and hue,
But because across it the bird flew.
Bringing with him your pilgrim soul.

I fell in love with flying,
Not to see a world anew.
But to relive a world you once knew,
and once knew you.

Through them, I could touch again,
every raindrop, every dew,
Every heartbeat, throbbing new
Bursting from this dead heart,
Your leaving killed.

I rather be your eternal shadow than the momentary sunshine.