A great iron hand, passed over every batting eye
Slipped under one day and gave way
to conviction
Drowning in a paper bag
to shame
No longer accustomed to things
That once felt so
normal, so
usual, so
Good
Flinging open every old book
Every old page and every old photo
Every old word and every old girl
That once made sense at night and
tucked him into morning daylight
That once had him swinging on the moon
Which was now white dust
From the city's pollution
Hung over an old tune
He resumed to walk the streets, alone
Making friends with the old shadows
And buried candles
There came a fear
that shattered all thoughts and molds
A process that was simple and once before,
Slipped under one day and gave way
to conviction
Drowning in a paper bag
to shame
No longer accustomed to things
That once felt so
normal, so
usual, so
Good
Flinging open every old book
Every old page and every old photo
Every old word and every old girl
That once made sense at night and
tucked him into morning daylight
That once had him swinging on the moon
Which was now white dust
From the city's pollution
Hung over an old tune
He resumed to walk the streets, alone
Making friends with the old shadows
And buried candles
There came a fear
that shattered all thoughts and molds
A process that was simple and once before,
Worldly
That which is now dead
to none but one
In his most beloved aching song
Played from the piano boy he once knew
This old moniker, who says
"I'm with you"
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