Somewhere in between sunrises and sunsets,
The skies and the seas,
I am where I should be,
walking on a wooden bridge, tied loosely to a trunk.
My thoughts forge the planks that I step on,
My tears melt into the setting sun,
Creating a blurry vision,
And a hope that there is life beyond the haze
Somewhere, in between, I stop,
And look back at what could have been.
The boatman still rests by the cliff,
and croons excuses and broken promises
I chose to walk a wobbly bridge,
Featherbeds are not for me.
The fear of heights, the sound of your heartbeat,
They are all one and the same now
Somewhere, in a faraway place,
Where the trees made music for men,
I see a tiny hut with a broken window;
It sings my name and sighs aloud.
There I shall be, if I cross the bridge.
The rusty nail just cut my skin open,
But I will take my chances in the unknown,
Till the planks fall and the rope gives way.
