Aircraft blazin' fuel
Aboon, "done-with's" grave floods sight,
A calm midnight rain,
The mind racing. Why
Must the nurtured be blind eye
Wilie McTell? Pain.
The mind racing, on
A smile,
Lonesome star in opaque
Darkness, Freedom
From label. Freedom
From responsibility.
Freedom from action,
Is this noble,
Or a jester's play in chess?
Oh, must I turn my fist to face aloft,
Straighten my clenched fingers, present you
Burning embers of admiration, that for so long
Have been stitched into my palm,
Gifted from a passive voyager afar,
Weary, to announce affection,
For a grasp can only
Last as long as
Two hands want to clasp.
What is on your mind?
Aircraft blazin' fuel
Aboon, "done-with's" grave floods sight,
A calm midnight rain.
A chance to breathe.
Be my Sheppard.
Lead
Me to pastures of serenity
To graze in, until my eternal slumber.
That's where I want to be.
