God is decompiling us,
He strips us to the bone.
A candle glows in heaven's keep
But there's nobody home.

The news arrived by telephone,
The night arrived with haste
My lungs are sinking, turning
Into stony paperweights.

With shaking hands I fumble
Over rusty metal strings
And lift my voice toward starlight
But it isn't me who sings.

And John, your boat is leaving now,
Receding from the shore
And if God doesn't hear you knock,
Just try his other door.


rest in peace, John Eyrolles. 4/13/91-11/11/09
Last edited by flame843 at Nov 12, 2009,
This was brilliant for something you made up on the spot! You're great at using imagery effectively. The only problem I saw with this was the line "And lift my voice toward starlight" - it seemed to mess up the flow of the stanza a little bit.
My favourite lines were "My lungs are sinking, turning Into stony paperweights." This is the best metaphor I have read for a while
I actually really really enjoyed this. Put this to a nice laid back folk melody and you have a beautiful song.