Camelot
Camelot
written May 2, 2002
It's like the clouds rolling in
The breeze across your face
The rain falling, falling down
Next to me.....next to you
Something to behold
Like a fine diamond, locked in a cellar
I'm broken, and it's cold
But you don't see me for what I am
A promise not to doubt you
Forgotten words of simple truth
My wings are fading, glass slipper lost
Where were you?
Camelot's gone.
It's a window to my soul
Lightning in my eyes
A mirror stained, glass is shattered
Next to me....next to you
Obscurity begins
Like a mad poet, caught in a dreamscape
It's violent, don't you know
And you can't see past little details
I promised not to doubt you
Forgot the words of simple truth
My wings are fading, glass slipper lost
Where were you?
Camelot's gone.
The clouds are rolling in
Wind lashing at your face
Crystalline marked memories
But you don't see me, these little details
A promise not to doubt you
Forgotten words of simple truth
My wings are fading, glass slipper lost
Where were you?
Camelot's gone.
I think I was much in the same place as previously while writing 'Long Road Goodbye'. I think I'm stuck, and don't know where to go. It's funny that way. I can write about having an enormous reserve of courage, and in the end it's just that. My voice.
On a sidenote, my wedding singer days are not over. I am being pulled OUT of retirement to sing for a friends wedding. Thankfully it's not a Roman Catholic ceremony this time and they aren't telling me that since I said I'd sing at their wedding, I have to sing the WHOLE DAMN SERVICE. I still give Caro and James grief about it. The only relief in an hour long Roman Catholic service is that you get communion half way through. Nothing like a shot of cheap red wine to get you singing the Hallelujah chorus.
So I asked ahead of time.
"Is this a Roman Catholic service?" No. "Will there be communion during it?" No. "Why not?" Because it's not a Catholic service. "Hmm. That does pose a problem. Will there be somewhere to stash a mickey of vodka near the pulpit? *laughter as he tells his fiancee....who then proceeds to screech and wail* I think that's a no. "Tell her she's no fun." I would. But she hasn't shut up yet. Just down a few with the groomsmen before the service. *more horrible screeching* "I'll assume that you aren't allowed to do that either." *laughter* "You owe me a lot of alcohol." Open bar. "Deal."
Who needs a manager?