Crazy In Blue

You Were A Thunderstorm

The stoic widows are crying out for stolen years

here, where sons wait to pull a trigger

where our shadows still tremble at the bright scorching sun

and another mad man is on the run;

praying to be rescued as Luna smirks across the mirror

in this dull land for a quiet engineer. 

They wait upon God for a grander insight,

and they'll be painting their black fences white;

we could never play the part in this cartoon,

and stole away for the pines- to a cruel & bitter night

knowing these dreams were always sent

down by the man in the moon.

we were forsaken -

dying blossoms on the vine,

the earth and sky yearns for our redemption 

resting upon the the cloud,

she's written in the eyes of  lovers,

nurtured by the child of spring,

the sky cried blue over her,

he found in her a love of everything.

A father once again will take the blame, his aim as sharp as arrows

trying not to swallow in the darkness of their winter sorrows

silence bleeding, broken by a bell that won't stop chiming

though winter's war was prescribed, we'll go sailing

for the time you can escape your fate-----graceful in your suffering.

Suffering is what helps us see, so don't look back in anger,

for no matter they try, the demons could not send us down,

cursed our minds as if we'd wash away --we would never drown

though our families would pray, we came here to see a new horizon

we'll follow you into the empty; thirsting for more of what's gone,

with one resounding cheer, the crowd will begin its song.

With wings of strength beyond the madness and pains of yesterday

we'll soar high over the trains, houses, fences, a world at play

before it all crashes down around me, you will know who I am today

even if the world dies or the stars explode, forever they will roam

and continue to carry me until I find my way back home.