The night is drawing

The night is drawing into morning and I mourn its passing soon the grassblades will be thawing as I shiver to my truck In a few days comes Thanksgiving but I wonder why I'm living lingering clustered in the shadows mellow tones of droning horror And I want to help out, when I can, try to act like a full-grown man but responsibility is not my cup of tea and I am left alone and sighing with the tears I'm never crying How does everyone do it? How can we all go through it? Some days, I wonder why I'm living but I'm too damn stubborn to stop completely slip away so indiscreetly And my heart is tortured by the frost that settles in this season and there's no logical reason to account for love I'm feeling and I wonder if concealing it is best So Shine On, Mystic Moon, shine on when the good and the pain are gone those silver rays, like slender hairs fall naked all around me they pour out all on the ground when it surrounds me, it has bound me there's no course I choose that can hold true what will I do but wait indefinitely So seek me, if you dare in the Dark Tower, my lair in my sanctuary of night whether under the starlight or behold electric candles if you'd rather, doesn't matter but it's getting much too cold out for red carpets to be rolled out on the couch that you might fold out you may sleep but I may not Every strain that you've forgotten every verse that has grown rotten every song and every curse every Muse is getting worse But somehow everybody keeps forgiving I wonder, sometimes, why I'm living and if there is some purpose I'm ignoring Mark Burton Tuesday, November 22nd, 2005, 6:05 A.M.