I don't have the answers...

Sing me in a slightly somber tune
the thoughts you had under the moon...
The ones where the good guy gets the girl...
while you hold my hand and try to explain
what's the matter with blowing out a flame...

Trust me, then kiss me
and repeat till you don't want to rinse anymore...
We'll be clean like ancient rivers
where the bear waits for the salmon
while the old natives stare...

After all everything is under the sea
like that tiny but wise crab used to sing
when I had smaller feet
and the cheshire cat was grinning a grin..
on my bed.. with the cold sheets
and time to kill...

Make me understand then.. why we look for constellations
straight into the sky...
Or the way light bounces so precisely so I can
watch the sunset...
in Greece
or in Portugal...

But let me know..
With a note you carved from smoke...
Not with blood on the floor..
When is it that you'll come home..
I'll bring your books
a gift from the moon
a knife and a hook
while the fauns play Pan's flute
and maybe you and me can be happy again...
Without the where's and if's that drive me crazy
while I glance at your chest and wish you didn't have to go
someplace else...

I saw the prophet's poster and made me think about nothing at all..
Blank mind and no balance .. ipod not making any sense..
And yet.. under the ground with people rushing to nowhere..
I felt at peace hoping for rain...
It's still cold though ... and the change in my pocket is not working out...
But this situation must come through before tomorrow
or I'll end up the same.. with the sun at bay.