I'm afraid to fall asleep without things,
like answers before the sunrise
or the meaning of our lives painted across the sky.
Yet my eyes close and the room turns blue.
This empty body next to somebody


Hearts weren't made to bend this way.
Just one cocktail on the hour to help me say,
(words I expected to hear from two)

But only in dreams do we exist
the way I would have liked it to

They play their hearts like gamblers on November days.

They grow their mustaches long to ride along the whiskey waves.

And never will they ever say no to their next drink,

because they gotta soak it in and boast away the stink

to flee from all the malicious thoughts they sought after

week by week.

Clear the fog

The fog is the dream so it seems
The dream is the reality we have created-
the creation of our very lives in which we choose to live in.
But we are so far (do remember)
from being bounded by these chains.
We can transcend
and cleanse and cleanse again and again

Then when all is said and done ( after hours )
like that of once a broken flower
the fabler shall set us free
infinitely through the dusty streets in which we sleep.



(photograph from a still image of the Whiskey Folk Ramblers music video that I just recently starred in)