The Second Nun's Tale
What a weird day. Once again, I feel like a modern pilgrim, my arm crooked with books, sitting in a plastic chair in a midwest airport on a gloomy, grainy, rainy day, waiting for a flight to take me Out. Departmental departure, not called ungentle.
Is life a layover?
--
The martyrs are brought before Maximus before the decapitation, and they converted him. Cecilia broke his heart and shook his confidence, I guess, got him down on his knees...
Come on home; or are you waiting for lightning, a sign that it's time for a change?
Or, from ol' Croce:
Your silver tongue has turned to clay,
and your golden road to rust.
If that's the way that you want it,
that's the way I want it more.
There'll be one less set of footsteps on your floor
in the morning.
Twang-a-lang.
Is life a layover?
--
The martyrs are brought before Maximus before the decapitation, and they converted him. Cecilia broke his heart and shook his confidence, I guess, got him down on his knees...
Come on home; or are you waiting for lightning, a sign that it's time for a change?
Or, from ol' Croce:
Your silver tongue has turned to clay,
and your golden road to rust.
If that's the way that you want it,
that's the way I want it more.
There'll be one less set of footsteps on your floor
in the morning.
Twang-a-lang.