this room is so cold and quiet. silence. what i wouldn’t give to just hear that voice for once in this room, bouncing off the walls. a laugh, a sigh. sleep.

Oh, in every dream I’d fall asleep beside you pleasantly
Awake all my flings to take this moment tie it with a string
Let’s play again, tag your it, now take me by my hand
This unspeakable regret as you slipped through my plans

Can you come and take my memory
Pick apart every broken seam

Watchin’ the phone, impatience now grows
I’ll listen in again, check for the tone, you’ve gotta let me know
Staring away as attention decays
Overwhelmed, this just may be my final hopeful stand.

Walkin home I found someone, I hope you don’t mind, I’m doin just fine
Still I hear that echoing, ethereal voice upon my mind
That sang me once to sleep lying on that crimson grass
I felt the river coming up, coming up fast

Take this bitter heart, I’m sick of its stench
Bleed through to every inch of this

new song lyrics:

Her swollen red eyes tell of her pain
As she says “don’t leave me again”
Piercing to go, more hurtful to stay
Waiting for jewels, a glimmer of proof
Another place, a feeling that’s new
She’s taken her step, but my feet won’t move

Give me an hour or two
And wait for me by the phone
If you don’t hear from me
I’ll stay alone but

I want you to stay with me forever, but not today
I want you to wait for me grasping onto to “someday”
I want you to pray for me mindful of who I am
I want you to love me since I’ve drawn the line, I’m still a broken man

Five rain soaked nights have found me alive
“How is it in Tennessee tonight?”
I’m wanting to go, but know I must stay
This shivering town turns bitterly cold
Distance fully feels so alone
Drive back down that road, and have no delay

I’ll stare out this clouded glass
The outside is shimmering gray
Reside here unchanged until
I’m ready to fall down again and I…

A doorstep somewhere south of Tennessee
Blue Ridge Mountains are calling, rain is falling
The Godly people just can’t leave this town
And their stories stroke the canvas of this house’s story
Seems the grass grows a little greener than before
Spanish moss, old with age, cloaks the tress
As if to watch over with approval, an old father.

Wallpaper peeling at edges, water stained throughout
A lonely piano, melody gone, singers all sung,
Weeps quietly, just one note would suffice
The scent, old with country hams and greens
Fresh peach cobbler and cornbread, all gone.
The wind sweeps through, with a spirit that moves
Reminding me of the life that was once here.

Creaking from the ghost, moving from old rockers
Lazily preparing the kitchen, aged water washed clean
A slow dripping down the walls, a hint at what’s outside.
In this old cabin, hidden from the world
So as to preserve the stories forever, in old marmalade jars
And their spirits shall live on, somewhere in my heart.

Currently involved in my winter wonderland
I sit on the perch of a clean white grill
To watch over this well kept society.
My days are short, only a few seconds long
One of the walls is my sun and my moon.

My friends are many though temporary
They sometimes come back less than they were.
Like my large milky pal changing often
His skin is rough, with different colored labels
Sometimes pink or blue, with a matching hat.

There are always separatist, on their own
Sitting in their little room at the bottom
One room carries the dark and light green
Vegetating in their own self proclaimed glory
Inside they’re envious to be up here with me.

These shelves reflect the stratification.
Like the group down below, similar in form
Similarly shaped, smooth skin, hard indeed
Perhaps they consumed some of the local folk
For I can see the traces of them inside.

My birth given job has never changed
To keep out the scum and stench
Just being here seems to have that effect
Like the appearance of the police on a crowd
My arm and my hammer seem to have no use.

This big room seems to have no summer
Eternal cold, forcing many inside to hibernate
Leaving me without conversation alone.
I just keep my watch up here on my perch
These sterile white walls in my sanitarium.