Light of My Life.

I’m not projecting this perfection, it’s external.
Spinning empty heart song, I laugh the dawning of the day star.
He struggles against his own weight, and fades to the victory of the west.
Let me watch him bleed on the horizon,
let me see the cascading colours from the deathblow of the night.
Crashes to ashes, the dusk does to dust.

Cracks in the symphony, and dissonance in the walls,
symmetry is broken by my lover on his glowing death bed.
I don’t want to be comforted by howls and screeches of the dark.
I don’t want the crickets to be singing his swan song.
I don’t want to watch him ripped from sight, memory smeared on pinkened clouds.
Crashed to ashes, the dusk does to dust.

I know I can’t replace him with someone I can switch on.
Headlights never touch me like he does.
No, don’t shine my eyes with those damn headlights,
I’m losing the light of my life.
Even all the candles won’t help me keep my sight
if I lose the light of my life.

He projects perfection, leads the whole damn world.
My head and heart start spinning with the dawning of the day star.
So powerfully he rises, thrusts himself skyward, wages one more war upon the west.
Let me watch him flood the horizon,
let me see the cascading colours from what spills up again from hell.
Rising from fire, dawn into day.

Plaster into music, and harmonization to dividers,
reparations for an empty heart song, returns to me, my love.
I feel comfort in the gentleness, the repertoire of birds.
I feel comfort in the burst of hope I feel at his return.
I feel comfort even though I’m but a pebble in a river bed.
Rising from fire, dawn into day.

I’m right beneath the ripples of an ever moving skin.
No one kisses me so easily as he does.
No, even through this fickleness that hell can’t even know,
I won’t give up the light of my life.
Yes, even though he comes and goes, and comes and goes,
I won’t lose the light of my life.