I took a hundred steps that morning
and took a hundred handshakes to the sunrise of the mind,
seven dwarfs to follow much like seven deadly sins to sink the thoughts
and cigarettes on dew and lighters in the cold,
her fingers running down the spine and coffee in a jar just before the wine,
fighting wars, loving deadly, living for today, building up tomorrow
all we did was gone and borrowed…

Places that I’ve seen by the open window of the trains I’ve ridden
pierced the shape of things to come,
and much alike a Scottish dream the lover’s chained to burn
and we drink their blood
and we feast upon the innocence that never fades,
deep into our lake that shines a billion lights
we never broke a promise as of yet…

And I’ve no regrets, nor hate or feelings of disdain,
the chapter’s filled with clouds and ash and dreams
and battles with white whales and even shattered glass,
and cold mornings still remind me of a cottage lost in foggy hills
where maps were drawn with borders black and bold only to be crossed,
and knights and magic do remain
where each of us is young and lives forever…

Once a day the sun walks down the giant steps at river’s south
and fire ants begin to crawl and drag along theirs joyful friends, letting go of all pretense,
on the bottom of a bottle they put dreams and let it float,
and runners run and rollers roll and clouds will go and skies won’t fall,
and all the songs I’ve listened told me where to go,
the gorgeous and the guy and fountains of a kind remind me of a taste I used to share,
long before I saw her eyes and long before she’s gone
I’ve searched myself for signs and burned a candle to The Lord,
did you ever strike the chord or will you always play in Re Bemol?

Once a year the giants walk along the evening sun,
the game is tight and no one knows what they’ll come to find,
you never dress in red for it has been told to be bad and so believes your dad,
I’ll kiss you on the cheek and write a letter to say goodbye
and I’ll drop the brick I carried in my chest for at least 9 months,
for I am a rock and I will change for nothing and for no one anytime,
only rain will care for me and wash away my dirt and stain
and the weight I put on things will build borders to the sin…

If this would be the last of days and I could never take a step further
and the hour of the choice has come and God is asking me to take a crown,
if rain would never ever stop to fall unless I am willing to make a call
and horsemen of the old would guard the exits and there is no where to run,
what is that I’d say to dad and which of them I’d want to shield
for storms and demons never touch my heart and never have my soul?

Once an evening long ago I’ve told us stories to recall
and sipping on a cup of tea we shared both hell and harmony,
and books I’ve opened to remember in a pub that ceased to serve the drinks
turned to slaves that had the fate of logs in winter at the lake…
And when the morning came with whistles and the night was like a fog
and the warmth in gloves would melt the ice and hold in place the bows,
the dream would find a way to go beyond the rocks and slippery slopes
and to give birth to youth anew,
to make me pierce the deep and strength return to arms…

If fearless I’m reborn to walk this morning to the river,
if fearless I am taking this sword I swore to ease upon the sinners,
if fearless is a testament graved upon my chest
I’d choose to loose them all
I’d choose to all forget
to wake upon the world as innocent and do not hold regret
if only I could all put back….