The Crossing
i fled that place, i ignored the masses, i’m a beggar drinking from a noble glass. and i don’t deserve the view on this island, or the pain that came with love’s violence. was i curious, or was this escape? there was nothing left for me in that place. so i embarked off for something new, now i sit above this emerald blue. i thought water this color, might have been a lie .the night is calm and so am i. – i will exhale slowly then count myself lucky. there’s beauty just below my feet and a rolling sky above me. and though there have been lessons, i wish i’d never learned. i’ve seen people set now it’s my turn. – to show myself what i know i’m made of, kuz disillusion it isn’t native. to who we are or what we can be, so i’ll walk these foreign unfamiliar streets. with humble eyes and the boldest intentions, where s.a.d is never claimed or mentioned. ignoring any other circumstance, beyond what’s right in front of me, or in my hands. and i’ll pick myself up, when i surely fall. when i miss home or her or nothing at all. – i will breathe in deeply and then i’ll count my blessings. i’m a million miles from what’s easy and the things that i’ve been stressing. and i will regain faith by singing songs about how i lost it. i’m leaving all my doubts at the nearest crossing –

Where the night grows darkest
i was taken to a place, a place that breaks it all down. where tragic lives and the best intentions lay buried in the potter’s ground. where people shed tears of joy, where people just cry. where people devote themselves completely and never question why. – we came from all corners with vague ideas of what it meant to help. hoping to learn of the world at large along with some things about ourselves. it was a different language, what i spoke and i felt inside. and for the first time i felt like i deserved my rest at night. – i’ve run my body ragged off excess and manual labour. but money, god, and other drugs ain’t ever been my saviour. and i’ve called home to east-end ghettos and nice downtown apartments. i found more guiding light where the night grows darkest. where the night grows darkest. – they taught an education i haven’t found on streets or schools. life or death, stillness or breath, and other unforgiving rules. the men held their patience, and animals held my heart. and i went to bed with a purpose well-fed, embraced in the jungle’s dark. – i’ve slept on friends and strangers floors, and the back of punk rock vans. i’ve wiped stains of blood and complacency off my hands. and i’ve seen many footprints stray from what path seems hardest. i’m gonna be unafraid to charge into the darkness. when i first met vigo, we tried to make him a home. sick and scared, we fed and held him so he wouldn’t feel alone. i sang to him on morning, i buried him that night. i watched him breathe his final breaths before the sun had set out of sight – and i went to bed so goddamn angry. i went to bed so damn confused. i went to bed hating what the pessimists keep saying. kuz i have seen what we have lose.  there’s so much left to lose –

...Meanwhile in Hell/Antigua

(Meanwhile in Hell originally written, recorded and performed by The [supremely more talented] Flatliners)
it rained again last night like it has the three nights before. but rain can’t keep my body behind these doors. he said that friends and strangers, can be so damn deceiving. he says we’re solitary creatures, but i don’t believe him. the stone saints crumble on the park cathedrals. watching over the hustlers and passing people. ex-pats, ex-cons, ex-lovers, and everyone between. some still drunk from the night before, some clean. – i hiked to a cross overlooking the city, and all of my decisions. identifying failures, clutching to optimism. the sunday catholics, said their prayers, i sat with silent perspective. i’m a million miles from everywhere, what’s my objective? – i was swinging through a day of broken conversation; we are our only authors, overcoming isolation. i don’t think we’re ever hopeless as long as we trade threat for promise. we are our only saviours, in search of something honest –

Iowa Won’t Wait Forever
i see you crying across this church-room floor. your grandma aint sitting where she was two weeks before. the casket line, it grows and grows, too many this month is all i know. your favourite souls are somewhere else tonight. death took me back to that gravel iowa road. grandpa can’t do the chores kuz his flesh has run cold. grandma says she’ll never move from the farm, where they raised kids and horses we’ll bury her heart. the boys carry the casket; the others lock their arms tonight. – us grandkids have been drowning in a world of choice. our relatives smile at the sounds of our voice. they’ve worked all along, to leave the stage poised. knowing iowa won’t wait forever. –  and we sing the songs we think they’d like to hear. and we say we won’t be defined by what we fear. if we live brave and our courage burns strong. no loss is in vain and no life’s ever gone. with our childhood refrains, The Dead sing along. The Dead will sing us to sleep every night. – and we sing the songs we think they’d like to hear. and we say we won’t be defined by what we fear. so boys let’s pick up these pens and guitars. we’ve never found solace in a house or a bar come on let’s be men, and follow through these plans . kuz folks living and dead have shown faith in all that we are –

Hints 

(To Mike Miller: thanks for being such an amazing friend and band-mate)
i got some hints i’m right where i should be. agents of threat and promise all stand surrounding me. it’s not up to my eyes what they will see but the meaning burned into my memory. if everything’s eventual, it means we’ll get there in good time. i was never one for patience so i say we cut this line. the world don’t care much for our plans, so i won’t care for it’s. it’s a few more hours till sunrise, i’m not waiting until it hits. but i swear that there’s one picture that with each look cuts way too deep. i’m faking strength and courage, i see shame underneath. i’ll help with what i learned when i felt weak. until i do i don’t deserve my sleep. the solution isn’t instant but there’s a way. a purpose to our breakdown’s we wake with one day we’re not static, we’re transitory, so listen up there’s a point to our stories.. i found mine by the river one winter day. there’s one thing that’s worth all time to say. bullets and ignorance line our world, they stand in our way. time will matter kuz time will tell, if we dare to believe in ourselves. and with it we’ll fight till our dying day –