Your small town
Has four corners
Across the road
From your house.
When the time comes,
Choose a road,
North, South, East or West,
And follow it fervently
To the end.
If all goes well,
You find yourself
Back in your small town
Sometime down the road.

I am the disappeared
my name spoken no more
by the tongues of zealous lovers.
I will not weep as my eyes look upon my banished heart
nor will I revel in it's decay
I will only mourn that time in it's passing is not as brief as your passion for my smile.

Take flight upon the wistful breeze
mourn not the loss of mortal shell
let go of all with quiet ease
for those who loved you loved you well.

Then we shall sing a prayer for thee
a light to guide in passing peace
that you may rest forever free
as morning brings your souls release.

Twilight's melody rises
mournfully dressed in lilac hues 
she grieves for the glory of the primrose sun.

The rise and fall of waltzing starlings
mirror the final breaths of the day
as with glorious mirth they beckon to the silvered chill of the moon.

I once had a friend called Mad Bob
who thought being a door was his job
he was perfectly hung
and disarmingly swung
with a sigh when you handled his ****.

And if these words should touch your heart
when dance they will past jaded eyes,
weave subtle smiles as tears depart,
from broken hearts and pretty lies.

And if my song it moves your soul
to dance in rhythm to it's beat
then I will sing until you're whole
and darkest fears admit defeat.

Then I will know I've played my part
in bringing light to fractured shore
and I will keep your hand in mine
until the darkness leaves your door.