The clouds are a shroud
draped softly over me...

I miss you as I'm
staring at the silent, suffocating walls...

I'd tear my soul in two
just to give you half...

(Search Your Soul For What Makes You Whole)
I sit here and wage war on myself...

Now that it is over,
is there a lesson...

As long as there is no revolution forthcoming,
pray then for the breakdown...

Emit time
allusion, delusion...

Is it the dream of hope
or the hope of the dream...

Heavier today than yesterday
but not as light as I dream...

Laying there in fading summer jazz sunlight,
it seems your floor is a meadow...

I was never
a subscriber to dogmatic doctrine...

We tell ourselves what we want to know,
to get through another day...