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Charlie Peacock
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Kite In A Tree
I'm forgetting my own history
Playing loose with the mysteries
And the steam will not rise from my engine barrel
I'm falling through a hole in the bedroom white ceiling
Twisting and spinning down to the sky
There's a greater evidence to be known and seen
When belief inches closer to the scars
Who knows? Who cares?
Who wiped away my tears?
Was it Abraham, father to the stars?
Nickels, dimes and dollar bills
I love them dusty corners
They smell like lonesome fields in the shadows of the day
There's a deeper river running
If only it would find me
Cut me like a canyon, wild and free.
Shine that light in my eyes
till I'm blind with vision
Lead me down to the river
And drown me in the poetry,
Your imagination.
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The aching feeds a fantasy
The stage is set for God only knows
The ear is hearing whistles made of wooden reeds
And telephones are ringing
A girl in blue is singing
And all I can hear is the sound of failure
This is not the promise of the glory of kings
It's our breast stroke, a heart don't
Give and take delight
There's that pain in my chest
that always comes on
right before the big fight.
If belief is only a construct,
my own little thumb-suck,
Then I'm a kite in a tree, a kite in a tree.
If belief is only a construct,
my own little thumb-suck,
I'm a kite in a tree, a kite in a tree.
And I'm a kite in a tree, just a kite in a tree.
I'm a kite in a tree, a kite in a tree
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