Part Of The Song

A motel lot near LAX had me questioning reality.
A thrown out back, but I’ll call back
with time, if I’m not still busy.

See how much has been missed.
To not know where we live.
We crawled and then we came back.
Don’t know that I’ll ever know what happened.

I’d spill it all and I’d hear ‘same’, and I miss it.
One look at me with tired eyes and I’d listen.
It glistened.

The silence sings with honesty.
It rings in distant memories.
It leads us on.
It’s part of the song.
It leads us on.
It’s part of our song.