A mustard seed sized faith can move
a mountainous situation
Faith expressed and put to action
is no match for raging fear

An irreplaceable mirror
One of a kind
An irreplaceable memory
Stored in a photograph

The mirror, shattered
Shards lying on the floor
The photograph, tarnished
Smeared with paint

A room reeking of chemicals
Belonging to an asthmatic.
Being refused the refuge
Of sleeping on the couch.

A gouge in the wall
A long, scratched line
White smears across
A brand new, silver surface.

But we can't sue,
Or complain
Because your son
Runs our Real Estate.

Unusually attracted to the sacred
but truly, I ain’t a saint

It’s the stories and the symbols
That almost make me faint

But I’ve never left this world
Which money, misery and malice taint

I just stare at the moonlit sky
And Salvador Dali’s strange paint

Sometimes
On a sticky morning
Where the sun
Won't stop shining
And my head
Won't stop wondering
The next best thing
Is a tale as old
As time

All kinds of things float above us,
There's a hurdle in the grave,
An apostle in the knave,
We've lost all molecular sense,
The postman cracks his whip and dances
The swimmer lost his flippers chancing,

All kinds of things float below us,
The saltwater trickles into the pan,
Hustlers tell us because they can,
Our ears take in everything
But our brains only some,
We don't pick what goes where,
We only know the depth of the dare,
We're lost before we've even begun.

All kinds of things float with us,
The man sits with his head in his hands,
Next to the grass plant,
As dust sparkles in the air,
And glides to the floor,
That's all of us,
And nothing more.

When death rings true
You will try to hide.
When death rings true
You’ll put your memories behind.

When memories fade
You’ll start to deny.
When memories fade
That’s your last goodbye.

When love is lost
It will be hard.
When love is lost
Your feelings you’ll guard.

When death rings true
Memories fade.
And love is lost
When death rings true.