The clouds hanging low on the mountains at dawn
Like an old t-shirt thrown on a chair
My dreams shimmer there on the edge of the day
And I long to remain unaware
But the light and the clock and the weight and the noise
Slide back into place in my chest
I cannot lie still in the swirling of time
And words will allow me no rest

You stand just past the edge of the light I can see
You speak and I struggle to hear it
I long to explain but I can’t find the words
It’s right there on the tip of my spirit


I swim through the street, I lean through the haze
I push through the current and tide
Straining to hear the soft voice in the wind
A memory, an omen or sign
I bow to the night at the end of the land
And the undertow pulls on my feet in the sand


You stand just past the edge of the light I can see
You speak and I struggle to hear it
I long to explain but I can’t find the words
It’s right there on the tip of my spirit

I wrestle and roll with these angels
We’re gasping for breath through our tears
I struggle and spin
Awake again
And I find I’m the only one here

You stand just past the edge of the light I can see
You speak and I struggle to hear it
I long to explain but I can’t find the words
It’s right there on the tip of my spirit