Sunday, October 03, 2010

907 : 10/3/00 : Smoke

Our spirits are like silver smoke
in crimson jars and it’s no joke
that when the vessel’s broken smashed
and seems a shell all futures dashed
against the rocks of circumstance
the great toll sounds to end the dance
goodbye to romance and dreaming
still in absence there’s a seeming
something lingers in the night air
could have sworn that you were right there
Thinking that you might spare me from
this fear of my spirit’s freedom
You said my spirit’s always free
and you said what will be will be
And now I truly see your face
the smoke your spirit in this place

You can read an explanation of the origin of these lyrics here
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