Your voice calls me out
to the sun warmed cement.
I pace the white striped lines
and we share our laments.
And somewhere out in the city
you're smiling for me,
satisfied without knowing
what memory tells us to be.
And when the wind numbs my fingers
I think of how you held my hand,
that the hours we spent in harmony
slip away like grains of sand.
Would you find me and fill my emptiness?
Would you find me and reward my memeory's patience?
*Do you remember the night and the fire,
the smoke and the fights, the lover and the liar?
Do you remember the dark and the morn?
Or has the memory withered, is it weathered and worn?*
Your voice called me out from the crowd
and we sang our songs strong and loud.
My fingers sometimes itch for you guitar
and the way you made me feel like a shining star.
Still in the moonlight, cold in the morning.
The summer threw out that twilight without warning.
*Chorus*
I shook like a fire and loved like the liar
without conscience or reservation,
it took all your heart to bring me back to restoration.
Does that night haunt you like the empty fire pit?
When you feel an angry flame do you think of it
with reverence or pain, brilliance or blame?
If you returned to the fire would it feel the same?
Your voice calls me out from
the places I go to forget.
Sudden realization makes me
decide not to regret
the things that never happened
and maybe never will.
But I can hold onto the memory
of the fire and the moonlight,
that stolen twilight so still.
*Chorus*
Would you find me and fill my emptiness?
Would you find me and reward my memory's patience? |
Submission Name: Your Voice Calls Me Out
