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The fifty four and the raining
5:08, it’s 54 and raining
Wiping away sleep with the strength that’s remaining
5:11 now and my eyes have stopped straining
Relinquishing sight to the absence of light
Tired of looking at nothing to see, It’s 5:15, it’s 54 and it’s raining,
and the wind smells like the sea.
5:19, can’t close my eyes but I’m not complaining,
Pushing away thoughts with the strength that’s remaining
5:21 now and I step out into the 54 and the raining
The squeaking of shoe souls plays the song of my leaving
Away from the hole in my stomach, and away from deceiving
That room full of charlatans, of harlots, and fools
The stale stench cigarettes, of sex, and of booze
Down the wet pavement, it’s 5:41, it’s 54, and it’s raining
With the fluidity of whiskey I flow further to the south
Away from your face and the bitter taste in my mouth
With a dent in my chest and a chill on my arms
With booze on my breath and with sweat on my palms
Haven’t slept in days now,
and I swear I feel as sacred as psalms
It’s 6:08, and the winds are gaining
The pulse of my heart tears my slow pace apart
Feed this pounding of blood with this primal reclaiming
It’s 54 on this western prevailing
and the song of my soul’s one of a majour derailing
It’s 6:19 now, and I’m off of the track
This rain cleans me pure, and this wind whips my back
The Sun makes its way and starts its reclaiming
and I’d stand to watch if I had strength remaining
It’s 6:24 now and the skies have stopped raining
Relinquishing night to the rotating flight.
Tired of looking, but there’s so much to see. It’s 6:25, it’s 54 and it’s draining
but the wind keeps on pushing me.
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Wiping away sleep with the strength that’s remaining
5:11 now and my eyes have stopped straining
Relinquishing sight to the absence of light
Tired of looking at nothing to see, It’s 5:15, it’s 54 and it’s raining,
and the wind smells like the sea.
5:19, can’t close my eyes but I’m not complaining,
Pushing away thoughts with the strength that’s remaining
5:21 now and I step out into the 54 and the raining
The squeaking of shoe souls plays the song of my leaving
Away from the hole in my stomach, and away from deceiving
That room full of charlatans, of harlots, and fools
The stale stench cigarettes, of sex, and of booze
Down the wet pavement, it’s 5:41, it’s 54, and it’s raining
With the fluidity of whiskey I flow further to the south
Away from your face and the bitter taste in my mouth
With a dent in my chest and a chill on my arms
With booze on my breath and with sweat on my palms
Haven’t slept in days now,
and I swear I feel as sacred as psalms
It’s 6:08, and the winds are gaining
The pulse of my heart tears my slow pace apart
Feed this pounding of blood with this primal reclaiming
It’s 54 on this western prevailing
and the song of my soul’s one of a majour derailing
It’s 6:19 now, and I’m off of the track
This rain cleans me pure, and this wind whips my back
The Sun makes its way and starts its reclaiming
and I’d stand to watch if I had strength remaining
It’s 6:24 now and the skies have stopped raining
Relinquishing night to the rotating flight.
Tired of looking, but there’s so much to see. It’s 6:25, it’s 54 and it’s draining
but the wind keeps on pushing me.
[/font]
Published 13th Feb 2011
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