The bus glided through the darkening afternoon shadows as we drove toward the States in dogged determination. We were circling the map—starting in New York City only to end up in Washington State before finally returning to Toronto. I knew it was a tentative schedule at best that would allow us only about a few days within each state before we would have to continue on and still I was excited. Glancing out the bus window, I scratched furiously in my journal—archiving the adventure as we went while hiding a smile when Spied suddenly grunted out in pain. Something told me that Wally and Kyle had left a tack inside Vincent's seat again. Yep, good old times re-visited only on a larger scale this time and with even bigger complications. I looked up at Tommy as I thought about that—noticing his gaze on me as well as I wrote. It made me wonder if he was thinking back on the first tour, as I was now, regretting that he hadn't made the decision to be a part of that misguided small adventure or feeling relieved that he had not come. We continued to stare a moment in locked silence before he placed his sunglasses over his eyes again as if he were afraid that I could read his thoughts somehow. I shook my head before scribbling furiously again.
All my life there was just me and my dreams
Wondering—anticipating what tomorrow would bring.
Would I be strong enough for the fight ahead
For the days when tears and laughter would become my bed
When a microphone would become my voice
When crowds and destiny became my choice.
I'm reaching for the stars—for heaven
Even in the nights when I'm making my bed in hell.
Reaching Reaching Reaching
Always for something more
Listening to the advice—the preaching
Of others—hiding in a disguise I wore
For all the world to seeThe damage is done
The scars visible in the rays of the rising sun
As tomorrow comes again.
Starting at the top soaring—discovering my naïve grave
Only to be buried underneath the debris of broken hearts
Wondering if I am strong enough—if I am even brave,
Brave enough to keep my world from falling apart
I'm reaching for the stars—for heaven
Even in the nights when I'm making my bed in hell.
And then the world exploded like a comet hitting earth
And it's as if the world knew me then—like experiencing a strange re-birth
Unknown towns and crowds of faces I do not know
Haunt me now—guides me as I learn to make it—to survive—to grow.
To burn like the star that gave forth my name.
Misery is a miserable companion
Like ghosts—slices of haunted memory.
I watched you sleep for a while
As road signs swept by my window
Guided now by visions—by smiles when I'm low
By the passing miles—by the adventure we find.
I'm out of my mind.
All my life there was just me and my dreams
Wondering—anticipating what tomorrow would bring.
Would I be strong enough for the fight ahead
For the days when tears and laughter would become my bed
When a microphone would become my voice
When crowds and destiny became my choice.
I'm reaching for the stars—for heaven
Even in the nights when I'm making my bed in hell.
I wrote down the words—getting lost in the lyrics as a hand suddenly settled gently over the page, and I looked up to find Tommy standing there, his sunglasses still firmly in place. I didn't fight him as he pulled the book away from my lap before perusing it. He stood there a moment—seemingly caught up in the emotions the song unleashed before sitting down next to me. He didn't say anything as he took the lead pencil from my grasp before writing down the beginning lines of another song before slamming the cover shut. He still didn't remove the glasses as the sun dipped down below the horizon outside my window. He leaned back and closed his eyes—or at least I assumed he closed his eyes—as I took the journal back and flipped open the cover. Inside was written.
Emotions roiling like a choppy sea through a troubled mind.
I looked over at him silently before shutting it again firmly. At this rate, I had already written one song and he had begun another. A fourth album was well on its way. I opened the book again to stare at his lyric, and I smiled. This would be our anthem—a line added everyday as we went throughout our tour. I took the pencil in hand.
Confusion a breaking wave at the beginning of its journey—a moment defined.
I shut the book again—setting it down inside the duffel bag at my feet before letting my hand rest beside me on the bus sofa. Movement made my heart stop beating as I felt the heat emanating off the hand that settled suddenly next to mine—not quite touching and I looked over at Tommy. His eyes were still covered—his glasses a barrier to the emotions hidden underneath. Over his shoulder, I watched as the bus passed one of those 'We are now entering signs' and I knew we had left Canada behind us—for now.
