The evening air is still—
Black ice it lies in waiting—
Walking with the cold
I watch asphalt exhaling.
If winter had a home—
Or frost a day to rest—
It be within this heart,
It be within this breath.
The evening air is still—
Black ice it lies in waiting—
Walking with the cold
I watch asphalt exhaling.
If winter had a home—
Or frost a day to rest—
It be within this heart,
It be within this breath.
There’s always a story to tell.
Always,
A story…
To tell—
I’ll always remember that day
And keep it as a reminder—
That day in which you looked my way
And I didn’t have a clue who you were
And you didn’t have a clue who I was
That day in which our eyes told stories—
As to what is most important.
So if and when we lose our way, I know
Together we’ll find ourselves again—
Where eyes can say what words cannot express—
And stories, we, can only tell together.
At some point you just let go,
and that need to be understood
just drifts by the wayside.
Like a dog is a dog, a cat is a cat—
with or without the mustard.
Man. Life can get pretty weird,
and if that means something
supernatural or uncanny, then
I’ll take it! Anything other than
Ugly normal, is fine by me…
If you’re going to read me
Don’t read me with a grain of salt
Read me with the whole damn salt shaker—
Trust me, it’s for the best.
