The Waking Hour - Vandaveer

Last night we died a fiery death…

You took a stray arrow dead-center in the chest…

The blood ran thick…

We fled quickly for the antidote…

I beat my wings till they melted from my shoulder bones…

Don’t curse the sun, he’s made for burning…

We fell from space, out of good graces, in a tailspin dive…

We flew full circle in the blink of that hurricane’s eye…

The waves came fast, they came in spades with no warning sign…

We made quite a splash with both the damned and the sanctified…

We weren’t cursed or blessed, rain’s made for falling hard…

Lay me down…

Fare me well…

Please let me rest for a minor spell…

Time won’t heal, but it may well tell which wounded dreams the waking hour

felled…

We stood stone-still at the base of mighty case of stairs…

Stared straight up, searched for signs…

Such a steep affair…

From that lonely perch the earth looked stunned, just spinning scared…

And the higher we climbed the more we doubted what we were doing there…

Don’t curse your heart, it’s made for turning…

On…

Lay me down…

Fare me well…

Please let me rest for a minor spell…

Time won’t heal, but it may well tell which wounded dreams the waking hour

felled…

Lay me down…

Safe and sound…

Please stay the bell till the final round…

Time won’t heal, but it will tick down…

The waking hour crashes to the ground…