Still Life, lyrics.

Still Life.

This is my spirit.
This is the way I’m going to show,
All of these fields of flowers, to the water
Below.
This is what I hold in the midnight sky,
And these tears I shed I want to cry.
The words I pour from my pages,
And cry these tears,
And we’ve been gone for all these years.
My life is at a stand-still, and still you’ve gone,
All these messages I am alone.
I stand on the mountain and look into my grave,
I’ve been out of the picture for a long while it seems.
You thought you could mess with me, and turn
Me into what I am-
Now I’m cold and I’m broken and I can barely stand.
You think I’m a liar I saw you bleed on the page.
You don’t know anything about the forces of rage.
This is my spirit this is my war cry,
Like the wind and the rain and the shelters we deny.
My heart is on a page.
I am homeless and broken and I cry your name,
The sky is above us, and we are here to receive,
These tears are our sorrows and on the pages it bleeds.

The Manuscript.

The manuscript sits on the shelf, gathering

dust and mildew and the old writer still

does not see-

my life is a blank page that is open into

a door that revolves around a world that

is no longer here-

forgive me, uncertainty, for I may mingle

in doorways that see into yesterday and boxers

are calm in their waking;

and the uncertainty is not coming with something

I no longer see,

and we are here, like revolving shadows,

caskets, if you will, of broken parts,

words that speak of reason,

no more reason to be had-