If The Bell Rang

in progress

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The day moved thin beneath my feet

In quiet spectacular fashion

Oh mad iris, run down pale waters

Of ash lilac pasture

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Sleep feels like rehearsing for a day with no direction

Some stationary growing pain

Borrowed blues

Old and new

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Over shores of Northern vapour

Two tigers, full gold clamour

With rose fists, in the heat of dreams

They wrestle

At the very heart of it

Lately these lungs have laboured

That everything will be alright

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And get a load of the devil getting off at the wrong stop

Wicked sharpshooter sorry you missed me

I fast talked the autopsy report

You’re going to have to try

A lot harder than that

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Once more with acting

Okay now you’re not pretending

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That’s fine, and I’m alright

Go and take your pound of flesh

I’m down to my fighting weight now

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I am moving now

With impeccable precision

If the bell rang I didn’t hear it

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Holy God you best believe in me