Balancing Over The Edge and Dead-Air Rooms



It was nothing more then
being locked in a dead-air room
and I was standing there
at the edge of a broken cliff
trying to keep my balance
while losing my thoughts
like a deciduous pine tree
that loses it's thorns.


I was nothing more
then a few seconds worth of thought
but somehow
through all the haywireness I cause
through all the haywireness that is me
I still seem to enrapture you
with simple charm
and some unknown beauty
you can see
and that I know nothing about.


Days when the radio used to play Johnny Cash
the days we used to lay in bed in each others arms
and.........
they were the days when I was far from the edge
the days and times
when the air didn't seem so dead.


Lacerate me with burning words unspoken
feelings kept inside
whispered to me while I lay sleeping
in monographic shades of grey
so bleak and dull and easy
to comprehend
yet sometimes hard to understand
while you're sleeping and dreaming.


Take some acetylene and weld your name
into my ever aching heart
for I know that it shall
last far longer
then just carving it in very softly
with a dull butterknife.


I want you to engrave
my heart
and have it mean more
then just a few thousand words
more then a thousand little words.


I want more then just
an acriphony of feelings
and of words
scrambled and pasted together like
a mother trying to get her house clean
twelve minutes before the lawyer comes
to tell her she no longer has custody of her child.


It was nothing more
then being locked in a dead-air room
and I was never worth
more then a few seconds worth of thought
but those few seconds were more then enough
and you pulled me from the edge
(you pulled me from the edge of a broken heart, a broken life,
for a new start. Not just some replay
but more like a new puzzle
with new pieces to lay)
yeah, you pulled me from the edge
without a second thought.

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