Old Ways Old

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Wm. Josepf Cardwell

6:28

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#INSTRUMENTAL
You wanted the Night
It falls
It deepens
The Sun gallops into darkest plights
Dragging Corpse of Light to Tomb of Night
Come to the Window of my Heart
And see Our Lives unfold
Out there
Where the World
Spills into profane oblivion of Emptiness
Abandoned as mute decisions to Eternity
Hung upon inertia of routines
Hung on an iced-over Moon
Whose turning permutations
Claim ordinary good
Like the ordinary beauty
Of ordinary colors of the World
Repeating patterns
The turning Earth
The turning Sky
The turning Wind
The turning Tide
And me, turning to see
The turning Fire in your Eyes
Desire of the Predator ~ Love of the Prey
You wanted the Night
Its falls
It deepens
As firelight sweeps our echoes into the hearth
Come to the Window of my Heart
Listen anew to our core Desires
Fallen from the Dark Plateau of our Bitter Lips
Heavy upon our habits
Like a frost of enchantment
Come then
Warm me with your peasant murmurs
Where beyond morning
There is a small steady rain
#INSTRUMENTAL
As your wishes fall before me
And i rise before your kisses
Cup me in your warming hands
And blow invitations into my hope
For i shiver under the wake of confusion
Under the ebb & flow of meaningless
Nights & Days passed through
This close to the horizon of our love
Where cruel permutations
Do injure common lives
With common words
And a Misfortune of Actions
Thorns of Misfortune
The thorns in our Flesh
The thorns in our Hearts
The thorns in our Nostalgia
And you, turning to see
The thorns in my eyes
You wanted the Night
It falls
It deepens
It twinkles beyond Deepest Twilight
Where Suns burn Day as black as Ash of Night
Come, My Lover
One last Time
Come to the Window of my Heart
And watch Our Lives
Burn & bleed down the day
And then tell me again
Shall we love no more?
For Old Ways Old
#INSTRUMENTAL
You wanted the Night
It falls
It deepens
The Sun gallops beyond the horizon
Tumbling the Day into dark
Look in the Window of my Heart
And see Our Lives unfold
Out there
Where the World
Spills into profane oblivion of emptiness
Abandoned as mute decisions to eternity
Hung upon inertia of routines
Hung on an iced-over moon
Whose turning permutations
Claim ordinary good
Like the ordinary beauty
Of ordinary colors of the World
Repeating patterns
The turning Earth
The turning Sky
The turning Wind
The turning Tide
And me, turning to see
The turning Fire in your Eyes
Come, my Lover
One last time
Come to the Window of my Heart
And watch Our Lives
Burn & bleed down the Day
And then tell me again
Shall we love no more?
For Old Ways Old

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