Soon after I fell off the face of the earth, I woke up here. With an idea and a dream. Barely breathing, but surviving. I tell tales tall as cliffs. But they're real to me.
I can't talk to you the way I wanted to. But I'll lead a new song. A precession of tambourines and pianos. Claps. And guitar. It ain't worth lifting voice without guitar. Acoustic.
* * * * *
And I dream of boys with beards and hair buns. In suits and sweater vests, with Pumas and boots. Darling, he'll call me. We should be leaving. Tonight. Stars are calling like matchstick dreams. And I'll fall away into the night sky. We won't have no where to be. Just telling life. Holding hands.
Darling I'm tired. We'll sing in a gypsy indie band with shakers and hair peace. With black hats and pea coats. and sleep curled in each other. Tangles.
Our precession will lead us into the night skies. And we will be as tall as cliffs, tired and tangled. But real.
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