|
Cold snapped like a coiled spring; |
|
You can feel the frost is coming on |
|
We are marigolden - dropping orange and umber, |
|
Just barely holding on |
|
And now downtown's dolled up with tinsel and angels |
|
Seasons sneak like haircuts, teased apart and tangled |
|
We were fraying for a while, but we took it all down |
|
Like the garland hanging off traffic signals |
|
But leave the lights on |
|
Cause it might be nighttime when I get there |
|
But I'm on my way home |
|
Putting on old clothes in a new way |
|
Putting on the pose of a new stage |
|
Waking up everyday just a little bit changed |
|
While it breaks over us like waves |
|
Long live beauty; short live pain |
|
Lust for wonder and hunger pangs |
|
Face your fear, but do not shame: |
|
It doesn't end; it just wears away |
|
But leave the lights on |
|
Cause it might be nighttime when I get there |
|
But I'm on my way home |
|
I've been clawing away at what's underneath: |
|
Closer than solid ground beneath your feet |
|
Closer, even now, than lips and teeth |
|
Closer now, then out of reach |
|
And the body remembers what the mind forgets: |
|
Archives every heartbreak, every cigarette |
|
These reset bones? They might not hold, |
|
But they might yet |
|
Leave the lights on |
|
Cause it might be nighttime when I get there |
|
But I'm on my way home |