Angel in a green Sillouett
So I sit here listening still,
to what one might ask?
To something I always reply,
though not a real answer-
it is all I wish to give.
For you must understand,
as I sit here in the open,
air passing slowly,
that within the night sky overhead,
shadowed by the city that surrounds,
I might make no attempt, for anyone,
to answer truthfully a question.
Simply I care and show it I shall,
may it be blatant or conniving,
who is to know
or for that matter care?
Like yourself I am also free,
to decide what path I wish to travel,
and of course I weigh those traits,
that may come before myself,
yet, in retrospect, I must admit
that my reasoning no longer outweigh-
my heart.
Here, try to follow, if you dare
or if you can, the logic I will speak-
Before you does not stand a man,
Before you does not sit a thief,
Before you does not a liar wait,
nor before you does this man hate.
No! Before you stands, sits, and waits
a man who can see nothing but two worlds-
one of hope and the other of despair.
What is that in the air?
Of course, now I know,
it is a cloud suspended by a dream.
What dream you ask?
Well the dream of you, of course.
Can you not feel it?
Can you not touch it?
It is there for when you are ready,
to embrace it my dear
like I am here, waiting-
for you own embrace.
Hope manages a cruel chuckle,
directed toward my thin defense
ready to strike my ambition down,
and yet cowers when you are around!
Beautiful, a living art,
moving in blurs, something so dark,
mystifying and mesmerizing,
but not always at once-
eyes are piercing right through this bard.
Interesting won't even begin to describe,
nor can I begin to reveal all,
for it is not possible for me-
unless there is an opportunity.
So I now stand here,
where I always contemplate,
everything that I must.
In this room, the one I lock tight,
where no other can harm me,
I dream that which may become-
a reality someday.
If it does not, then I wont cry
because I know I was at fault,
and with that knowledge, dear,
I will try my damnedest,
to never succumb to fear and die.
Now, take my hand
all me to lead,
to where we both can lay,
upon this bed, the one we made,
with you I dream to stay.
to what one might ask?
To something I always reply,
though not a real answer-
it is all I wish to give.
For you must understand,
as I sit here in the open,
air passing slowly,
that within the night sky overhead,
shadowed by the city that surrounds,
I might make no attempt, for anyone,
to answer truthfully a question.
Simply I care and show it I shall,
may it be blatant or conniving,
who is to know
or for that matter care?
Like yourself I am also free,
to decide what path I wish to travel,
and of course I weigh those traits,
that may come before myself,
yet, in retrospect, I must admit
that my reasoning no longer outweigh-
my heart.
Here, try to follow, if you dare
or if you can, the logic I will speak-
Before you does not stand a man,
Before you does not sit a thief,
Before you does not a liar wait,
nor before you does this man hate.
No! Before you stands, sits, and waits
a man who can see nothing but two worlds-
one of hope and the other of despair.
What is that in the air?
Of course, now I know,
it is a cloud suspended by a dream.
What dream you ask?
Well the dream of you, of course.
Can you not feel it?
Can you not touch it?
It is there for when you are ready,
to embrace it my dear
like I am here, waiting-
for you own embrace.
Hope manages a cruel chuckle,
directed toward my thin defense
ready to strike my ambition down,
and yet cowers when you are around!
Beautiful, a living art,
moving in blurs, something so dark,
mystifying and mesmerizing,
but not always at once-
eyes are piercing right through this bard.
Interesting won't even begin to describe,
nor can I begin to reveal all,
for it is not possible for me-
unless there is an opportunity.
So I now stand here,
where I always contemplate,
everything that I must.
In this room, the one I lock tight,
where no other can harm me,
I dream that which may become-
a reality someday.
If it does not, then I wont cry
because I know I was at fault,
and with that knowledge, dear,
I will try my damnedest,
to never succumb to fear and die.
Now, take my hand
all me to lead,
to where we both can lay,
upon this bed, the one we made,
with you I dream to stay.