Author: masterpei

it became
a guessing game,
I didn’t know
when you would show.

the sun would rise
the sun would set
the rain would fall
the wind would blow
and just when I
could take no more
you come knocking
on my door

Angeline.

Angeline,
avenging angel
of the north.
what sorrows
have you known?

Angeline,
the stories
you put forth,
tell everything
your heart has never shown,

Angeline.

that distant roar
you’re hearing
has been there
from the start.
it serves to block all anguish
from getting to your heart.

drowning out the things
you never understood,
how could good be bad?
how could bad be good?

how could all this misery
hide behind a smile?
lay down your weary head my love,
and sleep with me a while

Angeline.

Angeline,
avenging angel
of the north.
what sorrows
have you known?

Angeline,
the stories
you put forth,
tell everything
your heart has never shown.

Angeline

tomorrow, when we’re younger
than the oldest living thing
the universe will hear us
when we begin to sing

the passion that we knew
had been hidden there
once unfettered, out it flew
like a fervent inner prayer

tomorrow, when we’re younger
we will know the way
to find the hidden meaning
in our naiveté

for it is eternal power
forever to endure
the beauty of an innocence
that borders on the pure

tomorrow, when we’re younger
having lost the will to hate
we will learn the value of
a meaningful embrace

I’ll never get to where
I’m goin’
time has a way of
runnin’ out

the road ahead
just keeps growin’
certainty replaced
with doubt

I keep looking for time
it’s not looking for me

we used to sleep on a
mattress on the floor
never used to
lock the door
ate captain crunch
for breakfast
lunch and dinner

the ceiling leaked
the floorboards creaked
the window glass was
always streaked
yet somehow I thought
I’d come out a winner

I keep looking’ for time
it’s not looking’ for me
not sure what that’s all about
minutes they come
minutes they go
the hours keep running out

and I can never
keep pace
don’t think anyone’s winning
this race

in the year
of forgotten pain
when my wounds
began to heal
cleansed by healing rain
I could sense
but never feel

in the year
of forgotten pain
when I lost
more than I saved
silent whispers came ‘round again
to remind me
of what I craved

in the year
in the year
in the year of forgotten pain
I still hear
I still hear
I still hear that midnight train

a mournful whistle
in the night
I still hear it if I strain
a mournful whistle
in the night
in the year of forgotten pain

in the year
of forgotten pain
I sense the ghost
inside my head
telling me I must abstain
from once more lying
in your bed

In the year
of forgotten pain
I was left
with little hope
that in your heart
I would remain
such is the tightness
of the rope

in the year
in the year
in the year of forgotten pain
I still hear
I still hear
I still hear that midnight train

a mournful whistle
in the night
I still hear it if I strain
a mournful whistle
in the night
in the year of forgotten pain

what barriers stand
in our way?

what holds back
the touch,
what serves
as your crutch?
what causes relapses?
a mis-firing of synapses.
the path of least resistance
is one that is
well trod.
resisting the least,
feeling no friction.
no need for an interceding
benediction.
the path is open,
resistance is futile.
the longing returns
for the warmth
of your smile.

what barriers stand
in our way?