And me, standing under the splintered night, catching fractured glimpses into the black behind the black, hearing the prayers of stars, the angry whispers of the dark summer night.Its voice cracks,on your name.My eyes close,on your name.
JAMIE'S SONG 'August and November':They say it was a beautiful summer.I say I felt so cold the whole short while.I heard that it rained for days,Between August and November.Well I didn__ see it rain on the enslaved river.I am the river no more (x2)And the rain is just acid water from their cloudy black smoke.And now I__ at a standstill on the streets, That are lit up like a funfair from some forgotten dream.Yet faces, headlights, and the whole world passes by me. Without taking a step, I__ down in the hole too.And if it rains this comingDark and lonely December,I will never watch it fall on the entrapped river.I am the river no more (x2)And the rain is acid water from their cloudy black smoke.
Chasing Pavements
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JAMIE'S SONG 'August and November':They say it was a beautiful summer.I say I felt so cold the whole short while.I heard that it rained for days,Between August and November.Well I didn__ see it rain on the enslaved river.I am the river no more (x2)And the rain is just acid water from their cloudy black smoke.And now I__ at a standstill on the streets, That are lit up like a funfair from some forgotten dream.Yet faces, headlights, and the whole world passes by me. Without taking a step, I__ down in the hole too.And if it rains this comingDark and lonely December,I will never watch it fall on the entrapped river.I am the river no more (x2)And the rain is acid water from their cloudy black smoke.
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If you stand right at the edge of the night sky, some place where one o__lock leaves to meet two, the breeze will carry your words up to the stars. And they__l swallow your secrets until its time to hand them over to the truths in the sky- the ones that draw maps in the black. They carve their answers into the backs of my hands, the grooves of the words running deep in my palms.
The myriad choices of his fateSet themselves out upon a plateFor him to chooseWhat had he to lose
It's a breath you took too late.It's a death that's worse than fate.
Sometimes life has a cruel sense of humor, giving you the thing you always wanted at the worst time possible.
Here, also, the future was cried aloud by the wind through the rocks, so that all those who heard would shiver, and then the liquid spring song of the thrush would make all the beauty of moonlight and sunlight blend together, making it true, so true, that happiness must come again