Reception in the Middle of Nowhere

Standard

(watchtower)

Is she always there
Standing over me
Watching as the seasons change
Over some sleepy, wondering sea
Across her face and beneath her eyes
Is always the same wistful gaze
Reflections floating like young waves
Crashing just to show their size
The air gets dry
As the music grows dreamy
Synth sounds and electric emotions
As my head gets heavy beneath me
Roads pass by
And signs grow far out of distance
The radio changes with the reception –
Before we hit the chorus
And I sit looking out the rearview mirror
The radio tower lights blinking at me
Like a watch tower searching for a signal
And I wonder
If I might’ve left it on the interstate
And that’s why the music sounds so abysmal
And the static that crackles is its own accusatory finger
Blaming me for not trying harder
To get it back

Shattered Glass

Standard

The wind howls louder still
Reaching for the empty heart
Of someone who never got their fill
Of a life that has yet to start
All of those hopeful flames
Dancing in such a cold, dark room
Ever so reluctant to respond to the change
We forget that we aren’t the same
Despite our matching tombs

So open your lungs
And breathe in
All these shards of shattered glass
Left in the future
From the pieces of our broken past
Breath out
All these shards of shattered glass
When we all stand alone
Who will be left to last?

Soak in the left over memories
And face the mirror
See the man you built
Out of the anger of all that you couldn’t achieve
Did you hear that it all comes crashing down?
Like the missed notes
Of your favorite love song
It’s going to come back around –
Despite the coughing and blood in your breath
We know the lost will eventually be found

So open your lungs
And breath in that shattered glass
No falling water can cleanse
What moves so fast
Breath out all that shattered glass
The pain will lose its edge
Though the scars always last
And while you lie sleeping
And I’m lost in my head
I’ll gather up all that shattered glass
Left behind on all those roads I’ve yet to tread