where the flood lights point up at the steeples. choir practice is filling up with people. i hear the sound escaping as an echo... sloping off the ceiling at angle... when the voices blend, they sound like angels... i hope there's some room still in the middle. but when i reach my voice up to reach them the range is too high, way up in heaven, so i hold my tonuge, forget the song, tie my shoe, start walking off, and try to keep moving on with my broken heart and my absent god and i have no faith but it's all i want to be loved, and believe in my soul.
We headed south, where the surf came crashin' in. From black an white to color, from innocence to sin. It was summer in December, blowing heatwaves in my mind. People talkin' funny, some cruel and some were kind. From the crackle of the cane, to the frown of a big black snake. From the breakers at Bondi, down to Wallaga Lake. From the sound of a million fly screen doors, closing on the past, like that chimney the fires couldn't burn, I was built to last. When I flew across the ocean, I was number one. People gave me everything, an' I didn't need a gun. Walkin' down that avenue, I never felt so alive. People callin' out my name, an' I'd only just arrived. There was a tight rope walkin' bagpiper, in the middle of Central Park. Steam was risin' from the ground, an' I wore my cape out after dark. I had myself a moment, my day out in the sun. It's an unfinished story, but it's more than just begun.
;_; Epically beautiful. It is as if God had written it, using the finest computer, and blessed our poor KHV with it. Thank you. Thank you both.
