fade.

Step outside into the sun, my love
Let it fall upon your shoulders,
Warm you through your clothes
See, these new shoots of grass are breaking through
In fact, it must be summer somewhere just south of here.

You won't; you won't ever leave my side.
'Cause I won't; I won't ever let your hands slip through my fingers

This is the way we die - just slowly fade
Behind a wrinkled face; from the dust I came
This is the way we walk into the twilights gleam
The shadows grow long, and you're holding me.

Evening comes so quietly, and soon
Wraps all in sunlight fading; inescapable
Sit beside me in the porch light's glow.
My love, we'll fade together; embrace the cool unknown.

so i lay me down...

Sleep, like lovers do.
Sleep, like lovers do.
This life-giving grave; I lay myself down for you.
Sleep, like lovers do.

So much better now than where I used to be.
My heart's been bought and sold before; a pound of flesh for the lobbyists
and all those politicians - political loves - promising a life to me
they could never give at all.

So I lay me down
to die so that i might come alive somehow.
All that I have, I give;
these pieces, that I might be made whole again.

Sleep, like lovers do.
Sleep, like lovers do.
This life-giving grave; I lay myself down for you.
Sleep, like lovers do.

ashes and angels

Strike the match and watch it burn;
this sulfurous plume, my nostrils turn.
The flame, the heat, the light
Where once a bridge, now just a funeral pyre.

Lights the way back home.
Bars the way back home.
These ashes won't hold me from the cold dark waters below.

If I knew another way back to the place where I've come from I'd go.
But this path still smolders and the current's torrid in this brave new world.
My strength escapes, evaporates; and my broken soul, it bleeds
And my aching ears, they hear angel choirs; distant songs of wholeness sing.

Lights the way back home.
Bars the way back home.
These ashes won't hold me from the cold dark waters below.

Remembering my father's house and those distant fields of innocence
There were lilac summers; the sickly sweetness of the nighttime air.
In spring, we'd walk - In winter, we'd warm by his hearth; a glowing fire within.
Now I curse a match, carelessly tossed, that keeps me from going back again.

Lights the way back home.
Bars the way back home.
These ashes won't hold me from the cold dark waters below.

Feb. 5th

It's 'Super Tuesday' today. (it's a big election thing) You ought to know about it. It's actually kind of a big deal. We should probably care.

CNN

ps. just for fun.