Run (again)

my friend has problems with winter and autumn and tick tock and tick tick boom

town goes the clock, and it's gone away, there's no way to open it back up, there's no other weigh across.

bells sound mournful, and the old rattle, scraping breath still beats. but there's no tide to back against, no movement whatsoever, just this heavy grief hanging, waiting within him.

she sits between his two hearts and it is a kind of sorrow he has not felt in centuries, not for any but his family.

what does that make her to him? is this the last love, last labour, last lost? and if so, what's won?

nothing; he tells himself. nothing; the running's over.

end the story, once-twice, and then that's it; a double beat and the one-two-three-four double-nature of it dies.

no time to think, no time to recover.

no time to regenerate.

it's a possibility.

she's going; she's gone.

can i / i can run


from their pity, from responsibility
from the country and run from the city
i can run from the law, i can run from myself
i can run from my life, i can run into debt
i can run from it all, i can run 'til i'm gone