the wine turns my single eye inside
and there, past bits of dark colored chaos
it finds a sad ache
one winter night
a fine silver strand ran from
where I was laying
only little inches
to you

some tattered well-worn part of me
rises from the thought
I would be there and follow the line
to where you were and pull you to me

you.

lay my head on your shoulder and hold you
hold on
until we go
we go
together into the quiet fear
to find the resolve to go on
to find the knowing and the pain and the break!
the breaking apart
but in the sweeping darkness
purest joy
a silver strand
still holding onto your hand

cause i've been thinking bout forever