13h
Lit tunnels and less lit tunnels
Where is the light at the end?
I want the warmth of the train's headlights
And I want the conductor to feel bad
When his breaks don't work in time
Inescapable Death Upon Impact
You can try and lift both feet off the tracks
Hurl your torch into the groaning abyss
Pry the railway from the ground
Alas
What goes up
Must come down
Every flame that flares in
Must fade out
Where is the light at the end?
I want the warmth of the train's headlights
And I want the conductor to feel bad
When his breaks don't work in time
Inescapable Death Upon Impact
You can try and lift both feet off the tracks
Hurl your torch into the groaning abyss
Pry the railway from the ground
Alas
What goes up
Must come down
Every flame that flares in
Must fade out
Tonight I'm remembering and mourning the loss of the great visionary Mr. David Lynch. I sometimes think I've come to accept death as a fact of life and therefore defeated grief, but Mr. Lynch is on that list of people who have it in them to remind me otherwise. It's felt a little like a part of my soul is missing, since his passing. One day (probably fairly soon) that feeling will also meet its end, maybe.
