Well it had to be
for the story’s sake
a reoccurring theme
through the final take.

Now dim the lights,
cue the dream,
fade to black
and cut to scene.

Who’s the fool taken at your word?
‘the sweetest lies that you’ve ever heard.
A crowd is forming, and the spirals rise.

Motion slows, and a cold wind blows;
I can hear them coming, but we’re not running
We are, we are, we are …

A script is drawn of endless enmity
It’s all ‘us and them’ between you and me.

And who’s the fool taken at your word?
‘the sweetest lies that you’ve ever heard.
Clouds are forming, and the spirals rise.

I get lost in a fog–
It’s all or none that I ask of love.
A table set for one with lights turned low–
the need of passion’s seed bleeds lust.

Rise …

© 2010 Pale Yellow Music, ASCAP