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lacunas coil
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masked by your tears and inner pain i feel the world spin as i look into your eyes. your fingers slip, and you miss the chord, but the song continues and you sing on.
"I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you
Next door there's an old man who lived to his nineties
And one day passed away in his sleep
And his wife; she stayed for a couple of days
And passed away
I'm sorry, I know that's a strange way to tell you that I know we belong
That I know"
you stop and i whisper "that was beautiful." my words were obscure, but the meaning was the same. what was beautiful? the song or the singer?
another song is sung, and you cant keep from laughing. what is hidden behind your giggles and attempts to keep from laughing?
"I ain't saying you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right."
The attitude isn't real, nor is it intentional, but that makes it all the better. A fish jumps. Water ripples across your moonlit face, smiling you sing on, making up the chords to the next song as you go. Cohen, you say, is more honest than Dylan as he accepts that it is sometime's the guys fault too.
The night goes on into the morning, and we sit there; I am lost in your eyes, words, voice, and presence, you are lost in the world.
"There is this church on Second that worships nature as a way to get to God," I said.
"I don't need God in the equation. Nature is enough," you said.
we walk into the night, singing hallejulah. or atleast you sing a verse or two, and then we talk about the stories, the biblical ones. we love stories. i tell you a haidawan one about the sun and the moon and the stars and the day and the night, and, of course, the loons. i miss the loons, and you do too.
in their absense we remember their beauty. i see that beauty in you.
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