as the birds fly south for winter
the excavators come home to roost.
they bow their heads to the ground,
wishing for wings to tuck their necks under.
everyone guards piles of salt and twisted metal
brushed cold and golden by the sun.
a boat lifts its arms to the sky,
all rattling chains and gentle, grasping claws.
gentlemen, best prices for scrap here:
all metals, all amounts.
the highway crawls home.

If you see me on the steps,
of the tattered old church,
perhaps I have made a little progress.
Dunwich is a tough place to live,
but the folklore is rich.
In fact, if indeed I am sitting along the steps,
I would be right near a witch and a vampire,
a few ghosts,
and a revival of my spirit.

This small ocean side where we'd run play and hide is slowly becoming alone.
I wish I could go back and see all my friends the sailboats are calling me home.

Ive cherished the hours my tree skin and flowers,
the worldwide stage show makes me whole,
never did I think Id leave all the lights on under the sun-shining nights.

On a cold springtime night keeping eyes on the sight,
the bridge has been lit up again,
I stood in my tower for more than an hour ,
with a friend who would soon leave my side.

The cold winter nights and the hot Christmas lights,
The bugs that fly through the air.
the pallet is made with the games we had played on that frozen lake on the saddest days of the new year.

The leaves started falling and fish started flying ,
I always remember that day,
the corn maze is new and the pumpkins are strewn,
and there in the leaves I could stay.

The summit of pride...Is at best, a long ***** to fall from.
Ive seen many die from my place at the top.
But I am not so lucky.
I must wait patiently till the day,
(for no man can surrender his pride)
And I will fall,
Faster and harder than any I have seen.
But what I have seen:

A stag with strong antlers becoming tangled in the thickets.

A man, A patriarch, A fighter, who in defeat, cannot grace.

A child with the best toy who becomes a recluse when the new one arrives.

A Woman who has never surrendered to a morally ambiguous world, Has told them to be stolen.

For happiness intertwined with your pride will fail.
Just as what you have taken pride in dwindles.
Every weak point exists to become stronger.

Well it seems that one million miles from my home
where the water is clear and the valleys are gold
And the land that is really home to me
is all the way across the sea

I hold in my hand my soul and my fate
I try to use gold when lead would be great
I can tell even though I cannot see
The land that I care for is full of beauty

The old me is gone and I miss his laugh
But he's captive now in a photograph
And the many great things I could have seen here
have vanished with time and gone with the years

Ive looked through the sky and fallen like rain
the place that I landed was never explained
the mobile I was given from a drunken clown
painted my smile just like his cold frown

for how far I've traveled Im in the same place
sometimes I doubt life isn't a race
and even with all the trips round the sun
time can **** pain just as good as a gun