Expectant of the obvious; I turned to me, sizing up the mirror
With the borders painted white and the rain fell slow, practiced in the art of loneliness
Pilot of my own shortcomings, and leading me to dry land
And now remaining is a framing of a former existence
Mostly hollowed of holiness, and pressing against a few painful days
The rain stopped around 2 a.m. and so I went out for a walk
~
Bayed at the moon when the water floods my eyes
Then the dawn broke as the receiver came to life
The voice so reassuring as I'm clutching for reprise
Leaves of fragile might coat the ground in red and shimmering chrysolite
The sidewalk crumbles and the high-rise scowls down as I walk in shameful strides
Solidarity, and the broken promises I thought I'd see through to the end
And turning to me now; October, bathed in golden light
Repeating a phrase of optimistic disposition:
"It'll all work out in the long run"
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