Post by Mikhael on Jan 10, 2004 15:37:15 GMT -5
Watching for Inspiration
Mik Namlieh
The radio is buzzing in the gray-light afternoon
In a silent house, a silent street, a silent dust-mote room
Like every winter day before that always passed you by
And I think I hate this silence
I think I hate this silence
Staring out the window, inspiration will come calling
Walking up the silent street to catch your falling
Gaze and catch you falling into silence
To stand on cracking sidewalks, just another vagabond
Till you blink and inspiration has all gone.
The radio is buzzing in the gray-light afternoon
In a silent house, a silent world, a silent patient doom
Like every winter day before that always made you cry
And I think I hate this silence
I think I hate this silence
Staring through the glass at frosted prayers and concrete
Thinking maybe they’ll be free to go to God with April heat
Forgetting that it’s always winter where you are
And your prayers always frozen just outside your frosted window
Disproving all the cheerful songs you know
All the cheerful songs that crackle on your radio.
The radio is buzzing in the gray-light afternoon
In a silent house, a silent soul just waiting to resume
And drown itself in silence that would never tell you why
And I think I hate this silence
I think I hate this silence
Staring out the window your reflection is a lie
And you still retain your pride and you never would deny
Your nature, though it left you all alone without an answer in the end.
The radio is buzzing in the gray-light afternoon
In a silent house, a silent street, a silent mind that soon
Would drown the world in winter that had always made you die
And I think I hate this silence
I think I hate this silence
Staring out the window for a wish you sent a star
Unaware that stars are just too far
To be reached by idle wishes, burning bright before they die.
The radio is buzzing in the gray-light afternoon
In a silent house, a silent heart, a silent broken gloom
Like every winter day before that always made you sigh
And I think I hate this silence
I think I hate this silence
Staring out the window, thinking peace will come the way
Of all the disappointments that could never make you say
Goodbye but killed you anyway
‘Cause hope took it’s time coming stopping often for a drink
Crashed and burned before it found you, left you standing at the brink
Of disillusionment, optimism took the plunge and drowned.
The radio is buzzing in the gray-light afternoon
In a silent house, a silent thought, a silent shadow looms
Just waiting to consume you, to take you where you lie
And I think I hate this silence
I think I hate this silence
Staring out the window, see, it’s not so very far
To where you used to love to walk, to hope; where are
Those shining dreams that made you free?
What happened to the eagle and the stars that made you sing
And what happens to that music when they’ve taken everything?
The radio is buzzing in the gray-light afternoon,
In a silent house, silent world, a silent dust-mote room
Like every winter day before that always passed you by
And I think I hate this silence
I think I hate this silence
Staring out the window, you can see your life unfold
See the mediocre unfulfilling wage for which you’ve sold
Your music and your color and the hope you thought you saved
In the face of endless winter, why keep watching for the sun
When grace is gone and hope is dust, the enemy has won
Then maybe there is nothing left to watch for.
Mik Namlieh
The radio is buzzing in the gray-light afternoon
In a silent house, a silent street, a silent dust-mote room
Like every winter day before that always passed you by
And I think I hate this silence
I think I hate this silence
Staring out the window, inspiration will come calling
Walking up the silent street to catch your falling
Gaze and catch you falling into silence
To stand on cracking sidewalks, just another vagabond
Till you blink and inspiration has all gone.
The radio is buzzing in the gray-light afternoon
In a silent house, a silent world, a silent patient doom
Like every winter day before that always made you cry
And I think I hate this silence
I think I hate this silence
Staring through the glass at frosted prayers and concrete
Thinking maybe they’ll be free to go to God with April heat
Forgetting that it’s always winter where you are
And your prayers always frozen just outside your frosted window
Disproving all the cheerful songs you know
All the cheerful songs that crackle on your radio.
The radio is buzzing in the gray-light afternoon
In a silent house, a silent soul just waiting to resume
And drown itself in silence that would never tell you why
And I think I hate this silence
I think I hate this silence
Staring out the window your reflection is a lie
And you still retain your pride and you never would deny
Your nature, though it left you all alone without an answer in the end.
The radio is buzzing in the gray-light afternoon
In a silent house, a silent street, a silent mind that soon
Would drown the world in winter that had always made you die
And I think I hate this silence
I think I hate this silence
Staring out the window for a wish you sent a star
Unaware that stars are just too far
To be reached by idle wishes, burning bright before they die.
The radio is buzzing in the gray-light afternoon
In a silent house, a silent heart, a silent broken gloom
Like every winter day before that always made you sigh
And I think I hate this silence
I think I hate this silence
Staring out the window, thinking peace will come the way
Of all the disappointments that could never make you say
Goodbye but killed you anyway
‘Cause hope took it’s time coming stopping often for a drink
Crashed and burned before it found you, left you standing at the brink
Of disillusionment, optimism took the plunge and drowned.
The radio is buzzing in the gray-light afternoon
In a silent house, a silent thought, a silent shadow looms
Just waiting to consume you, to take you where you lie
And I think I hate this silence
I think I hate this silence
Staring out the window, see, it’s not so very far
To where you used to love to walk, to hope; where are
Those shining dreams that made you free?
What happened to the eagle and the stars that made you sing
And what happens to that music when they’ve taken everything?
The radio is buzzing in the gray-light afternoon,
In a silent house, silent world, a silent dust-mote room
Like every winter day before that always passed you by
And I think I hate this silence
I think I hate this silence
Staring out the window, you can see your life unfold
See the mediocre unfulfilling wage for which you’ve sold
Your music and your color and the hope you thought you saved
In the face of endless winter, why keep watching for the sun
When grace is gone and hope is dust, the enemy has won
Then maybe there is nothing left to watch for.
