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Tigers on Trains
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Mont Ventoux
I threw all my pride into a hornet's nest
While you were asleep
Amid all the drums
Feigning to celebrate some kind of end to the world.
But me and my memory,
We wear each other out
Staying up late
And tearing the tags from all of those bright ideas
I'd like to believe were my own.
But casting my words, florid and overgrown
In place of myself
I kicked in the door and lost all your sympathy
I guess that's the way that it goes.
But sometimes we climb, aimless as vines
Just to see what we've missed
As if this half empty house
Could fill with the sounds
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Of the places we've been.
We measured our love over a yawning grave,
It wasn't quite fair
But that was the day that you most resembled me,
Stoic and fearful.
If age draws us apart, I hope that we'd both pretend
Just for a while.
'Cause all of those lies could add up to honesty
And save us a whole lot of time.
And sometimes we starve,
Just to get far from a suitable truth
As if each piece of our souls
Could flower, then fold,
And become something new.
But you didn't even try.
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