The silent lights illuminate the lonely, silent street... Lights go out in windows as those thoughts begin to beat... A special night for special feasts of familiar flesh well seasoned... The time of year is our good reason!
The crew are gone, just he remains. This is indeed a mighty game. All fled but he... Shall he bail next? The others have not stayed to rest. Like in the classic comic sketch: "Here, hold this!" "Take this, please!" "Hold this, balanced on your knees!" Each one hands the straight man more Before leaping out the door Tearing at a long rip cord. Left with all that they discard, he waits around, without regard. Then sighing, looks at that last 'chute. What shall he do? The point is moot. Back to the pilot seat he goes: Another engine starts to glow.
On a wing and a prayer Smoke fills the air Of the heavenly stair Spit and bailing wire Ca'n't hold back the fire... Engine flaming, airframe cracked The pilot shouts out to the back "How goes it crew? Hey, where are you?" Parachutes blossom in the sky The pilot watches as he flies Fighting gravity and time Glad their landings shall be soft He guns the bird, to stay aloft Glances at the rack of 'chutes... One left! He lights a slim cheroot Passengers soon raise a clamour They work with spanner and with hammer In a most ungainly manner.
Deep in darkness Lightning flares The question asked: Who dares? Pain strikes quickly Hearts despair. The question asked: Who cares? We travel slowly On the stair We climb into a dragon's lair To meet a fate both foul and fair The cymbals clash The trumpets blare Into the lightning strike We stare. Waking, sleeping, who can tell? Is this heaven Or some sweet hell? We brace for storm and lightning fell. What will come next We cannot tell.
The day has brought its journey The night has brought us home The darkness soothes the tired eyes Time for to burn a cone. A harbour on the voyage The ship tied up at last. But ready to cast off At the dawning light's first blast! We sail into the labile sea The neon shores glow gleamily We spread the sails of imagery And mindscapes everlastingly And ask: What is liquidity?
So we reach another place Passengers through corridors Which have both time and space We only know the past things done We only hope our wyrd has run. The future is unwritten Until we write it down Choose words wisely if you can For here the future's sown. It seems absurd to write down words Silent words no ear can hear... How can soundless markings Convey the noise of talking?
