CellarGhosts
07/12/07, 06:46 PM
Funny story: A few days ago Lew submitted a song with an in-joke as a title.
I had begun writing this the day before I read his piece. And it has an in-joke as the title.
Small world aint it?
Of Bridges and Breathlessness
Cool night, autumn air - fill me with recollections*.
I'm missing those months more and more.
Bending boughs in the wind's whisper ignite another sense of regret.
I should have spoken clearly.
But the well has dried.
I'm cementing these pages with the tears I've cried.
[chorus]
Old songs, long gone...
Is it the confusion you're afraid of?
Can this wishful plea,
Somehow fill your dreams with me?
Stale taste, of words on my tongue and choked back down.
We're ignoring all we've been through.
Somewhere I've saved every comforting word you ever said.
I'm blessed by each memory of you.
Yet the lights have dimmed.
You're cementing these pages with notions we've worn thin.
Old songs, long gone...
Is it the confusion you're afraid of?
Can this wishful plea,
Somehow fill your dreams with me?
Other girls cannot measure up to you.
My stuttered words dye this bedroom in a gold hue.
---------------------------------------------------------------
* Yes I'm aware it's not autumn.
I had begun writing this the day before I read his piece. And it has an in-joke as the title.
Small world aint it?
Of Bridges and Breathlessness
Cool night, autumn air - fill me with recollections*.
I'm missing those months more and more.
Bending boughs in the wind's whisper ignite another sense of regret.
I should have spoken clearly.
But the well has dried.
I'm cementing these pages with the tears I've cried.
[chorus]
Old songs, long gone...
Is it the confusion you're afraid of?
Can this wishful plea,
Somehow fill your dreams with me?
Stale taste, of words on my tongue and choked back down.
We're ignoring all we've been through.
Somewhere I've saved every comforting word you ever said.
I'm blessed by each memory of you.
Yet the lights have dimmed.
You're cementing these pages with notions we've worn thin.
Old songs, long gone...
Is it the confusion you're afraid of?
Can this wishful plea,
Somehow fill your dreams with me?
Other girls cannot measure up to you.
My stuttered words dye this bedroom in a gold hue.
---------------------------------------------------------------
* Yes I'm aware it's not autumn.