Chrysalis

 

Our caged lady of the open door
Next to the moon, inside the sea
And I know that she
Will always say maybe
Once upon a time
Was up for almost anything

Our lost prophet of the broken strings
Calloused fingers, frozen dreams
Clocks in every day
Checks out of his mind
Too late to find
The muse has gone hungry

And every day we rise again
And write it all back down again
And every day the words mean more
Until they’re all worth dying for

Red haired mistress of the Sunday scene
Bringer of light in all this sorrow
She smiles in the dark
And keeps the rotation
And maybe tomorrow
We’ll all feel less empty

Saints and stories on a Downtown street
Gypsies, ghosts and fires that raged
And all that’s emerged
From out of the ashes
While poets kept watch
For someone’s tomorrow

And every day we rise again
And write it all back down again
And every day the words mean more
Until they’re all worth dying for