A Nice Life

In his blackdust heart,
a knightly shining fire was born to repeat itself,
born to repeat.
In his mothwing heart,
a brightly screaming song was born to repeat itself,
born to repeat.

We’re all the same, all the same,
from our flesh to our voice,
from our eyes to our hands.
We’re all the same, all the same,
from our blood to our choice,
from our life to our plans.

Everything we’ve ever done was in the name of love.
Everything we’ve ever won was in the name of love.

Who could’ve listened to his magic
and not been changed by what he did,
what he did?
Who could’ve danced with that thin white love
and not been changed by what they saw,
what they saw?

We’re all the same, all the same,
from our flesh to our voice,
from our eyes to our hands.
We’re all the same, all the same,
from our blood to our choice,
from our life to our plans.

Everything we’ve ever done was in the name of love.
Everything we’ve ever won was in the name of love.

And in the silence between his last breath
and the fourth day,
the whole world closed its eyes,
and promised not to look,
if only he’d come back
if only,
if only–

We’re all the same, all the same,
from our flesh to our voice,
from our eyes to our hands.
We’re all the same, all the same,
from our blood to our choice,
from our life to our plans.

Everything we’ve ever done was in the name of love.
Everything we’ve ever won was in the name of love.

if only
if only

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
This entry was posted in Poetry, Songwriting and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Go ahead -- say something. Anything.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.