All these nights spent on backroads,
peering into the woods at watching eyes
passing us by as stars of a winter sky...
The faces of this crowd are hidden behind masks
stitched together from scraps of imagination...
Build them high and wide, these walls against the world
raise them until the songs of the wasteland fade to whispers
and become only echoes lost in the glare of a midnight sun...
Away from the night of spice winds we crawl
following the windwalkers through sunless lands...
City lights out to the freefall edge
down to the blackwater and an eternity of silence
wandering across the salted fields
and planting seeds with high hopes for the harvest...
It was out on the broken glass slopes
of mountains that towered as kings
over the wild-light desert
where I watched the ruby sky turn to ink...
I saw you as you once were
a reflection in a blade raised against the night
a being of moonlight in a distant world
smiling to yourself at some mystery...
Feed my soul the pieces of a shattered sky
The sweetwater stars like funeral wine
paint visions of ruin across the empty night
until the bottle runs dry...
I sat with my ear to the wall
Listening to all the things you never said
While the sound of your heat pulsed
Across a distance lost to the wild road...
A rising sound screaming through confusion
Or a lost spirit singing in shadow
Longing for a fire in the night to light the way
This sound like a falling star came...
Broken edges, loose threads
Tear away until blood is flowing
Beneath ashes carried on the wind
Already magic is flowing through our veins...
The faces seem all too close together
Muddled against a thousand streaks of color
Voices overlapping, waves in the sea
Calm sky over streets longing to live...
The massive engines roared to life beneath him, and Silas forgot for a moment all of the black thoughts that had urged him to this point. There was only awe in his heart, and every physical sensation was melting together with the engine, his whole body joining with the metal monster in its great leap toward the sky.
Staring beyond the depths of the cup in my hands
Into a past I long to know
The view from atop the boneyard pile
Is a steep descent into rolling madness.