Tag Archives: lost friend

An Innocent Art

If ever I loved a woman pure and true,

if ever I gave my best, it was to you.

If ever I chose to be angel, holy and brave,

it was for you, only you, as I knelt in the knave.

Train ride on a rainy night, I got left behind.

It’s still raw, the memory of you in my mind.

It’s not gone well since you left for Lincoln.

I fight all these demons, turn to often to drinking.

The city I’ve always known, seems dirty and small.

I can’t find my voice, knowing you won’t answer the call.

I cherish you, the tender wound in my heart,

for it’s still the best of me, loving you, an innocent art.

You’ve done well, and I slip into the same routine.

We were close on a place high up and inbetween

the summers of a small hope, and summer of loss.

I still carry you in me, hoping our paths will again cross.

The train comes to the station, I walk home in the rain,

I never made it to Domremy or the warm coast of Spain.

I try and fight on, like you always believed I was able.

I try and fight on, despite thee empty chair at my table.

Birthday Girl

Birthday Girl, her big day.
There’ll be a party.
There’ll be cake.
I wish I could still
give her a perfect gift
wrapped in bright paper.
I wish I could share it with her
and make her laugh and smile
and just know that she cared.
Omaha’s a long way from here
and she never writes or calls.
I can’t get her to reply.
A moment, we were friends,
but she’s living her own life
and I’m still here, still missing her.
It’s her birthday, she’s having fun,
and send thoughts to her of love,
hoping she knows they’ve come from me.

Omaha Nocturne

So far gone from the man you knew. Maybe you’ve changed as well.
The day when I could love this world, and have hope for tomorrow
is long in the past. The day when I shared your faith is even farther back.
Only the dark songs speak to me. Only dark dreams fill my rage choked soul.
¬†Beliefs don’t mean much; people are going to do what they’re going to do.
Faith just means closing your eyes when there’s a gun pointed at your head.
I try to tend the last rose of love, the rose that once grew wild for you.
I try to keep a smile for those still here, but I fear it will one day disappear.
¬†The nights are only truth when they’re starless, moonless, hot as tired iron.
People change, the world changes, and I can’t even remember you here with me.
Death is sleep without dreams, and dreams just lie to you, tell you there’s hope here.
The darkened room is the most vicious hell, and your voice no longer soothes me.