Michael McGuire Clay Conscious
A black and white future colors the past, I sail around the world but I’m
strapped to the mast, aware that the endless sky and sea lack the rivers
comfort.
A hero’s funeral and a dead mans life, I think it would all be better if god
had a wife, a new meaning for the thunder and relief from the strife that
comes from living.
If never has a reason then reason has a way, but the void is the voice of
the silent say, but we all know at last and at least there’ll come a day that
stays forever.
You get closer to yourself and closer to the rage, you try to live with the
freedom that comes with the cage, you try to make your life rhyme like
words on a page of a notebook.
Who can be the loneliest ghost, who can make nothing the most, forgive
all the time we waste, forget every moon we chased.
And your bones will find their bride, and your deeds will lift with the fog,
your deepest lover finally by your side, and you’ll be god deep in the
eternal bog.
