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A gloom three-hundred

ninety five days later

I'm still the lover

your still the hater

silence speaks volumes





Yesterday the phone rang

it's message calls me back

to the north

t'witch you are from

while here in the south

I searched for comfortably numb

Gee, are we...havin fun yet?





Should I go?

I have no choice

Have my fears

listening to the voice

of extracting tears

once more

silent death...awaits me





One more dance

seems owed to my soul

for the dreams of silent jesters

I have come to know





Your cuts are sharp

as I dance with the memories

I'll bleed to the left

bleed to the right

hearing your harp

play drift away

over and over

in my mind





And one last time, I shall bleed

thank my Lord, for all I receive

Gee...are we...havin fun yet?





Copyright © 2001 Dennis Hicks

12/2/01