do you remember our little corridor
that blackish floor between two and three
where dreams were made and staged and broken
where we were free and still made eleven
your voice echoes along three black walls
and your laughter, along the green
i still remember what you said about your sister
and how i held you as you cried with me
it's three months over, but i see you still
dancing through a building in the sky
i hope you're smiling, where you are
free from the dark stage you chose to leave behind
it's funny how it all comes back in waves
maybe you miss it too - all the fun
maybe you're up there, smiling down
maybe you're somewhere, saluting the sun
and when my turn comes, i'll look for you
in another space unscathed by time
i'll embrace you tight in a fresnel light
and softly sing you lullabies
but for now,
i'll just keep going on
i'll keep you where time cannot erase you
and where no one can ever hurt or break you:
i'll keep you in our little corridor
the blackish floor between two and three
where dreams were made and staged and broken
where we were free; where we'll always make eleven.
-c.t.
For the ten of you: Jimmy, Dougie, Deanie, Normal, Mel, Phoebe, Charles' crazy wife, Trudy, Sunshine's guardian, and..of course, Suspicious Moon.
It's a different kind of pain - the kind that never goes away, and I begin to realise that nobody really will understand unless they experience it for themselves. So we'll hold on to each other until our turn comes. And when it does, when we finally make eleven again, it'll finally be okay.
