In the bungalow of your thoughts
you can sit and fume at the world
while you wrap your soul
in angry net curtains!

Long ago,
when earth was clean and silver bright
an angel fell, compelled by vast eternal might
beyond all time
through endless night so brightly starred
his wings aflame his halo charred
remembering beauty through his tears
to see him through in later years

A shiny halo can work loose
and when it slips
it becomes a noose
your sainthood lasts until the day
the rest of us see your boots of clay!

The price we pay to be free
is all that we have to give
no matter in what cause it is shed
blood in the gutters is always red
buying liberty
is expensive
taking it costs more

Can water know
when it flows and drips like rain
through the palm of your hand
does it understand
and feel for the drops that remain
to linger
on your freezing fingers

She’s been gone
for so long
we are different now
much older
and perhaps a little colder inside
because something in all of us died
when she did!

Paint me the cold of midnight
or dawn in the hills,
mix me the feel of fresh grass
under tired feet
and the smell of rain
on a long and dusty road,
boiling rage
or the sweet sweet joy of relief
blend me a colour
for the things my eyes cannot see