wounds of the open road

as his footsteps trail the hollow hallways
of a broken empty house
he realizes that he too is broken
and very well never make amends.
as his steps creak against the failing floorboards
he runs his fingers down his scars trailing his frail body.
his scars, the only reminders,
wounds of the open road.
all that he holds left of his younger memories grown old.
this house no longer feels like home
and still he wonders if anything will,
since hes left.
alone, left to wonder and wander
through these hollow halls.
in this broken house.
in this broken body.
he is still left
with a forgotten taste
but still lingering on his lips.
still, he is left to wander and to wonder.
if he is the only one still waiting.

outside under the streetlights
we were saved
and your eyes burned like a saint's

down by the traintracks
we'd open our arms to the wind
and let the speeding trains sweep away our spirits

the music sails through our ears
and golden amber down our throats
just waiting, hoping the answers will come to us in our sleep

and we prayed, putting our heads together
asking for some better weather
with which to plan our escape

but we'd laugh
our feet embedded in the snow
leaving tomorrow for tomorrow, and letting tonight go

as the blood stream quickened
my senses never seemed so sharp
so lock your secrets in this heart
two eyes aligned
softly lighting this hollowness

but how can we cross frozen seas
when the ice lays
but inches thick?
blind to see whats beyond these skeletons of winter trees

i find myself searching these familiar places
for the lost feelings of old memories
when we were younger
when the sky surrendered to the night
and the earth shook beneath our weight

we're only growing older
these songs becoming slower
but without the cold gray dawn in sight
the sky still surrenders to the night