My heart a stretched out rubber band
here is hopes lying in my hand
tattered, unruly yet with iron will
If only love’s gained by lying still.
Your voice echoes to me – the song is whole
ripples and chilled breeze till the soul
I turn in terror, with fear i’ll find
chips and splatters of the mind.
A new way opens – certainty and trust
spirit doors close slam, car door rust
spurred black boots find the floor
and nothing compares – to that roar
I look up again – you are still there.
The fog has cleared yet the ache in my heart is still there,
I look down, feel for signs of life – yes, it is still beating …
once more I crawl to the edge, kicking loose debris
the water invites – many leagues below.
Solid as concrete shifting in wind driven sheets I gulp air,
can this keep on, if so for how long; my love? How I crave and long
for the warmth of the sun and that salty sea
without so much as a thought I hurl myself
again to a place I do not understand, have not been – nor remember
reaching for something to hold, arrest – something solid …
that place I know we can share.
I look up again – thank goodness – you are still there.
Shooting down the road, heading to bends and curves
Home and street lamps blur, early half lights merge
Wheels just leave the ground – it gently falls away
You’re heading to the mountains… slowly
(boy…. you’d better pray)
– Yellow flower spots –
– climbing, adrenaline blots –
– visual lighting dots –
– catching, in beer pots –
Up and over, through; and through emotion clouds
There! You see your reflection – a dropping kamaki?
Parks and buildings swirl, as you slowly rise
The slow road to the mountains … taking
(All that’s in the skies)
Wake the earth with my fist
Feel the wind in my wings
For Love Itself brings healing –
on all earthly things.
Monday’s like a meteorite, smashing its way through rain,
Fridays I’m looking for landmass – like a hurricane.
Weekdays something just ain’t right, dizzying to the brain,
Fridays I’m looking for trouble – like a hurricane.
Mirrors led & Masonite; cauterise n’ take the blame –
Fridays I’m looking a beat up – like a hurricane.
Sometimes I feel the bullet, always I’ll look again,
Fridays I’m looking for trouble – like a hurricane…
….Hurricane Jane. (Chorus or band chant echoes!!)
Mondays… Tuesdays… Wednesdays… Thursdays… Fridays…