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I'm suspended now

hanging in the gray

of a weather-beaten town

 

December rolls around

lays a blanket of herself

on the ground

 

where comfort lives in sound

like a gun laying cold on the ground

no way to spell it out

 

there's still much to say

of a gun left do-o-own

 

most of me is elsewhere

wondering

shall we hear a song

or shall we live one?

soaked to the bone

 

I'm suspended now

hanging in the gray

of a weather-heavy cloud

 

soften my face and bow

to bid my farewells

to the ground for now

 

part of me is sinking

and pondering

hope is a gracious term

aligned with the faith that reason

has a course to take

may it be the just one,

until then ...

 

I will drown

(DROW-OW-OW-OWWWN)

and go down without a fit

how glorious is it?

 

bound in sound

(SOU-OU-OU-OUUND)

even and weightless,

and free from wrist to wrist

 

- HWM, "In the Gray"

 

rockband.gif

 

 

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