To the end of the night. In hopes to find that warming glow. I kept heading for the lights. And anything they would show. Gun and bullet, pen and ink. I guess I wanted to know. Just how much of a stink one can kick up at one throw. And I saw them…
All the roads we dream and never go. All the wound we bear and never show. Grief has come to me now. And I smile all the while. Now that I ran out on you. I ran out on words. And of time.
Do not scorn me with a love so bitter. Do not weep when I fall. Did you fine men ever consider that a dream was the cause of it all? Gun and bullet, pen and ink. I guess I wanted to know. Just how much of a stink one can kick up at one throw. And I saw them…