The Eye of The Storm

Running dry.

Miss getting high.

Miss living that life.

Surfing the edge of night.

Skating what’s wrong and right.

Normal life makes the man die,

Before he’s dead.

A Slow death.

Waiting for something to happen.

That’s already happened.

All that’s left now,

To chase that golden cow,

And hope she pays out,

For those final years,

When you get to live again.

But by then, it’s too late,

You’ve lost the taste.

The young man is dead.

His memories in your head.

Here comes the end of night.

Some call it the eternal light,

Truly, truly getting high.

Have you just been trying to get back to it all along?

Where you came from?

Was getting high a moment in that eye,

Of the storm,

Being born.

Waiting to transform.

Back to dust.

Back to it all.

Free from bondage.

A million pieces of light.

Goodnight.

And then back in.

For more of the same.

This time we’ll really live this life.

Insane.

Unsound.

Merry go round.