ALARMS

You fall in all your dreams
A wake of gilded steam
But life is what it seems.

Leaving signals at the door
All the flags and semaphore
Whatever do we signal for?

Tarry now, or you could turn to the sea
But I say now, the steepest cliffs to climb are me --
But I'm not Everest or something.

But the yarn is spinning fast
The partitions of my past;
And the devil everlast.

I don't mean to rouse your charm
I don't mean to raise alarms
But honesty will do you harm.

This is not a call to arms
I don't mean to deliver harm
But like a kite to the wind, I'm stringing you along.

Therefore is my throat to deliver this sound to you.
Wherefore is my throat to deliver this sound to you?

All I can say
Is an earful, a refrain.
I'm all eyes and ears for the answer.
All I can do
Is to be there, to beware.
I'm all eyes and ears for the answer.

SEA THINGS (HOMECOMING)

We put out to sea
Like boats against the current,
The fog and the serpent.
We're seeking out the lighthouse,
The mirrors ever dancing,
A guide but a spinster.
Pilot lights simmer our hearts,
Our boomerang hearts.
Peppered sailors, in the thick of it.

We're tied up in knots
In a dicey bid for shore;
Will we recognize it, or will we want more?

It's improbable, but I can't shake it. 
Enter probability.

I expect the jungle to one day fall out of this boy,
Or like horses led to water,
Like lambs for the slaughter. 
Forest fires creep on our lives,
Our overgrown lives.
We are saplings in the thick of it.

Oh-ohh
When we leave our children
Beautiful or tainted
What will we have painted?
Oh-ohh
Singing hallelujah
Genuine or feinted
How will we have painted
On this canvas of a life?

I expect the jungle to one day fall out of this boy,
Or like horses led to water,
Like lambs for the slaughter.  
Forest fires gleam on our lives,
Our boomerang lives.
We are sailors, in the thick of it.

ELIXIRS

Are you one with a surplus of smiles,
Or a penchant for mounting your stares?
Do you throw your eyes away when they give you theirs?

Because the word on the street
Is that you're acting so discreet
Because as far as I can tell, you've pegged me to be
The Judas to your Jezebel.

But you're not Jezebel,
Oh no, not even close.
But I'll admit you're akin to elixirs,
And you're ramping up the dose.

Are you one with a head for division,
Or a preference for summing your trials?
And now I see you wanna just talk for a little while.

Because the word on the street
Is that you're acting so discreet
Because as far as I can tell, you've begged me to be
The Judas to your Jezebel.

'Cause in my experience, people don't want to be known.
They're more than the sum of their parts.
This world's a play we are casting;
Any actor can tell you
They're more than the sum of their parts.
They're more than just some of their parts.
They're more than the sum of their parts.

Grasping at straws, like a vertiphobic robin.
And swallowing pride, in this nest we're still a lyin'.
One of these days, will I sever all my trials.
One of these days, will I ever truly fly.

INFORMATION

Up front and back down is the name of the game.
Conductor dies down watching life make circuits round the bus.
"So where is all the fuss?  And why do I feel rushed?"

The dim building blocks all over the city.
"It's just the generation,"
But currently, I've got a bright idea.
So let me shine you on, in reverie made still.
You've got a dimming shine, and it's in decline.
So let the static build, in reverie made still.
So let the static build.

Inertia strove to hold the hand of thousands.
We must refuse, or have our outlets killed.
The dear have said I'm rife with self-conversion.
But I just can't sit and let the static build.

Shelter in the sky
Nostalgia, no, why?
Stalwarts hold their mind
Until they're left or right by you.
Until they're left or right by you.

Information
I tried not to hide, and house for the wise.
Circumvention
Of questions is free, but what's it gonna get me?
Planned conventions
I shirk all the while, and smirk with a smile.
Information, I fly.

BIRDTAILES

There's an Eagle scout waiting at a fork in the road.
And he's sharing with me what little is left.
"But you've not that way--"
Fall young protestations on deafening ears.
"I'll be not to blame,"
Declared with conviction betraying his years.
"I'll be not to blame."

There's a frustrated raven past the fork in the road,
And duped by deductions, I've followed the wrong path.
One false step will find me down in the rockies, and down in the rain.
"Like any bird of the air, if you're not to follow, I'll be not to
blame."
"I'll be not to blame."

Once, a little bird told me
That my restraint was coupled in right,
I was shocked; I was awed.
'Cause I'm a pretty good reader of people,
And both your statement and you are a sight;
And in your citing the best of the bad news,
You have incited this trio to fight.

There's a woodpecker crawling up the skin of my tree.
And though I have roots and the greenest of shoots,
The ironic embarker is me.

Can't you see?
These birdtailes are singing.
Your head's like a phone
That your heart's always ringing.

And though I have roots and the greenest of shoots,
And the Eagle scout scoots in the fastest of boots,
And the raven he gloats, and the more that he bloats,
The ironic embarker is me.

MERRIWEATHER, AWAKEN!

King Merriweather, where are you now?
I've been hailing your reign every day, and storming your clouds.
We're heiring your greivance, and praising your son,
And I think you'll be challenged to cry when we are done.

But I know you're struggling towards winter.
That your grief is a form of belief at home in the snow.
With a half-sigh and a shake of your jewelry
Will your clap be a formal collapse of masking your mirth?
And you shake with a sputtering smile that threatens your worth.

Time and your smile are two things we don't have,
So chin up, my dear, and hold the wheel.
The chatty technocrat, he's idling in the dark.
He's idling in the dark.

VIENNA

When I received my twenties
The contract stated
All conversions final, there is nothing left to change.
Denominations pocketed, the contract stated
All diversions final, I decided not to look back.

I listened with passion to most of the sermon
And though the majority was in German,

This still was the first time attending a Mass
Involving no weight on a Catholic lass.
The same thing had happened not five years before,
But by the time you reach twenty,
You stop keeping score.

As I got my head around the world,
In my heart, the seven wonders, they unfurled.
In the dark, I thunder
That all the Austrian art lacks a wonder
As I play this cello
And all the green in your eyes turns to red,
'Cause in Vienna, that's all in my head.

SANS FRANCISCO

As Nancy packed her things and went,
Amongst the ten or twelve percent,
Freed of fabric cement.

The goods delivered,
The bads tagging on.
And oh, to be next.

The guesswork ensured,
Of fiscals demure.
And oh, to be next.
But oh, the fortnights.

Buck the dollars,
Sold my passion,
For a lifetime horde.

The squeezing of the capsule.
The pleated-skirted schoolgirl.
The musings of the fortnight.
The lack of a twilight.
The stamping of the keepsake.
The legals lacking tender.
Pretending all the training
We've finished attaining.
And oh, the fortnights.

ODE TO OTHERS

Someone's been rounding that heart out.
You can tell by the eyes,
The delible dyes.

And we've branded it sap,
But I think that is a trap,
For the flies and the pests of our peers.
Who perceive it as foolish,
Really dyed in the wool --
The fight of the flight of such jeer.
And that may take years.

There is a chorus in this silent forest.
In their heads, they're all screaming out loud --
It'll pour if you listen.
And they've branded it sap,
But I think that's a trap.
With nary a doubt or without thinking about
What we owe.

Someone's been smoothing that heart out,
And from six words, I reconstruct a lifetime.

Although you question my strength, and
I'd never breathe such about you.
Say we all need someone,
Although I struggle, I just don't think so.
Although I struggle, I just don't think
That we've branded it sap
And tantamount to a trap,
Are the flies and the pests of our peers.
Who perceive it as foolish,
Really dyed in the wool,
The fight of the flight of such jeer.
And that may take years.

And we live without form,
But still bending out of shape --
And you're curled up like a question mark,
And your hair is falling fast.

(I will touch you, I will bend you.
This is what we owe to others.
I will bend you, I will break you.
This is what we owe to others.
I will break you, oh, but I'll love you.
This is what we owe to others.)
This is what we owe to others.