|
| While the world goes on around us |
| We sit here in puddles of gold |
| Moonlit flakes of silver stardust |
| Flutter on a wind grown cold |
| Will we be here to see tomorrow |
| Or will the gold dry up too fast |
| Our hollow hearts will fill with sorrow |
| We knew the starlight wouldn't last |
| We sat upon the onyx stone |
| Where all the light was lost |
| We asked the price of what was gone |
| And staggered at the cost |
| We should have known what we would pay |
| Before we made the choice |
| So many things we should have said |
| Before we lost our voice |
| We stood by the edge of town |
| The road was dirt, our eyes turned down |
| We stayed there watching the road |
| Nothing came near the place we stood |
| The world was brown, a dusty gray |
| The forfeit of a deadly fray |
| "The world is gone" one of us said, |
| "I fear the night would have us dead" |
| The sign said bus, but no bus came |
| The world no longer had a name |
| The death had stopped the whole world's song |
| Through clouds of dust we walked along |
| (The empty bus drove out of sight |
| The day was swallowed by the night) |
| We sat around a table that was made of plastic wood |
| I dragged my pen across a knot, we had done all we could |
| My hair was cut to average length, the strands were colored blond |
| My fingernails were painted with pastels on either hand |
| "Forget the past" they told us though they know it's hard to do |
| "Paint me all you want" I said, "I'll never be like you" |
| "Why not?" They said, "We're happy now that we are all the same |
| When we are done you'll wonder why you ever had a name." |
| We wonder why we bother when we know that they will win |
| We pass the sign among ourselves, the fight will soon begin |
| Raindrops shuttle past the window |
| Breaking holes in fresh, green leavees |
| Filling cracks so dark yet shallow |
| Tripping those who try to flee |
| Sharp teeth gleaming in the darkness |
| Are the only light we know |
| Gray walls glaring in their starkness |
| Crush the flowers that dare to grow |
| While we cower in dusty corners |
| The carpet slowly slips away |
| We wish the dust could always hold us |
| But not even dust can stay |
| We are standing on the ice |
| Praying we don't fall |
| Warmth from the sun will not suffice |
| We need to melt it all |
| We need to laugh, we need to run |
| But we can't standing still |
| Of all the things not even one |
| Will make us free until |
| We are free to run and laugh |
| And we don't need to fear |
| And we can walk an unplowed path |
| Or we can just stay here |
| We close our eyes and try hard to pretend |
| The things we see aren't really there at all |
| And hope our ears will cover up the sounds |
| Of mountains that have just begun to fall |
| We rub our hands to chase away the cold |
| But still our tears become ice in our eyes |
| We try to laugh so we won't feel so old |
| And pray the sounds will not come out as sighs |
| And memories of how it use to be |
| Are chased away before they fully form |
| Of days when we could hope that we'd be free |
| Of wistful days before we made the storm |
| And yet we hope that someday we will know |
| What happened to the one who made the snow |
| And so we sit and dream of empty things |
| Of spots of dirt scattered across the floor |
| And wait for covered rocks to earn their wings |
| But nothing ever earns wings anymore |
| And all the children left standing in line |
| Are taunted for the things they cannot change |
| The clouds look down and say the ground is fine |
| But anyone can see the dirt is strange |
| And so the final thoughts come back to this |
| That while we wait the sun will not come back |
| And all that things we know that we should miss |
| Are all the things that we already lack |
| The rain drowns out the cries of those who dream |
| And all we are is what we dread to be |
| We hung our heads and cried for all the world |
| For trampled flowers dying to live free |
| Soft petals falling, dry and brown and curled |
| The tears that fell could not save even me |
| The cards were dealt, the spades covered the hearts |
| The diamonds lasted only for a while |
| And all the clubs had taken all the parts |
| And so the deck was tucked into a file |
| The rain will come again and wash away |
| The dirt from all the hands that dug too deep |
| And little children will no longer play |
| With marbles that they know they cannot keep |
| The puddles will collect around the stones |
| The rocks become the earth's neglected bones |