Unsober is the day,
foul play on sleepless nights
The Guns are awfully absurd
The Stones are even further,
I can’t find my music and the words won’t follow
dreams are ending with an artificial flavour
politically wasting years of savage force,
I need more than substance
to hang pretty portraits on a straighter wall
to preach the passion buried deep inside
build newer gods in the image of my kind,
I need darkened mountains
I need fertile valleys with running sky clear waters
to wash my sorrows and bury deep my fears
in the shadow of a greater fuller purple moon…
brick by brick, in the dark
breath by breath, doors closed, windows high
the heart collapses from the harder stronger grip,
I need a supernova, not only the spark
an exploding sunshine to burn one way out
to put down the unrest
to unspill the ink from the very first page,
in a coffee shop up that steep road
where dark roast and winter black tea
slowly wrote us to unstaged tragedy
the war and anguish, the spite I covered in me,
I need a blue spring
to walk anew the dandelion fields forever…