The skylit grey parade,
She always said,
Look for the future,
In a missing beat instead,
No questions asked of you,
but rumour has spoke,
disguising the fault lines,
In the miracle of smoke...

Why pay the price
of an early night?

Reaching out for comfort,
and finding a curse,
you could do worse,
celebrating the moment
that poisons your hand,
try to understand,
they grow,
the early nighters
stop the flow,
and die young.

In dream like yours of call
setting hope to sail,
shipwrecked by your own mistakes
the sirens start to wail...
the merging of spirits walk,
and their hands are joined,
cascades to a resting place,
their faces light with joy...

Why pay the price
of an early night?

with the splendour of silence,
you gracefully fall -
nowhere at all
you decided to tell me
with warmth in your voice,
try to understand,
they grow,
the early nighters
stop the flow,
and die young.