long after the tired sun’s setting
i wait here on the edge of sleep,
mulling things through, and forgetting
the world was never mine to keep.
i wait here on the edge of sleep,
dull and drowsy-eyed, accepting
the world was never mine to keep.
what could i lose in rejecting?
dull and drowsy-eyed, accepting
that absence no more makes me weep,
what could i lose in rejecting?
how loud could one soul’s silence speak?
that absence no more makes me weep.
long after the tired sun’s setting,
how long could one soul’s silence speak,
mulling things through, and forgetting?
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