Still sleeping on the edge
Your side is far too cold
The house feels empty
Without you here to hold
Never washed your lipstick
Off the wine glass at the table
I can’t lose everything I have
Missing you makes me unstable
Still Sleeping On The Edge
wash
What I Need Is A Good Ol’ Western Storm
What I need is a good ol’ western storm
To wash out my soul
To cleanse these dusty roads
The low thunder returning me to whole
I’m Always Dressed For The Beach
I’m always dressed for the beach
You never know when you’ll feel those pulls
Needing to wash your toes in the tide
Taking your soul down to walk along the shoals
Wash Away My Sins
Wash away my sins
Lightning striking us twice
Coming summer rain (soft & light)
That lovely woman – cold as ice
Yet I head for her still
Not one to be dissuaded
She’ll warm to my charms
When I leave her hair unbraided
We’re Trying To Stretch Out & Live
We’re trying to stretch out & live
Embracing the crispness of the blue sky
Let the sun wash over us once more
Let us live without any more reasons to cry
Wandering In The Forest
Wandering in the forest without a notion
With my lovely bride by my side
Looking up at the wonders of nature
Between the trees there’s no room to hide
Finding seasons we don’t know at home
Rain, snow & all other forms of emotion
Transparent dreams offer no resistance
Treasures washed away by the errant ocean
I Want To Know The Secrets
I want to know the secrets
The ones you have buried deep within
I want you to whisper your love
Kiss me so long they’ll think it’s a sin
Running away from sunsets & goodbyes
Feeling the lead of stained windowpanes
These houses don’t hold strained memories
Washed away in the softening of Winter’s rain
I’m freely exposed in these dimmer days
Wrap me with the sound of rigorous hymns
I listen, but don’t fathom your parlance
I can’t keep up with your acronyms
Seeking Out Freedoms
Seeking out the freedoms
But where is the wisdom our follies have made
Washed away with the retreating tides
Now we bask out in the cover of foliage’s shade
I’m sure nature leads us to the answer
The tempted isolation of introverts
The paused legacy of our discontent
Posterity gently tugging at her miniskirt
Tilted scales of Justice – with her hem unraveling
The overture that rises where prudence fails
Our overwrought, sparse conjecture
& leaves us at the darker side of the fairytale
Captain Q 