Write It Out

Yeah I try to write it out, not sure what I recall,
I cant tell if its memory or story telling now.
It happened very quickly, but it seemed to last for hours,
And everything was crisp and clean till all came crashing down.
So much fire and debris

That I was nearly blind,
With panic, and there was no one anywhere to turn,
To be saved, from the tyranny and cavalcade,
And all use was lost

And the more that I would struggle the more that I became entwined,
And the thickets and the thorns became my flesh and I was vine.
Creeping deep into the pavement, breaking ground as I grew fast.
To the centre of a city and up again where I did gasp,
In the air, oh to breathe

And I was still alive,
With a start, and there were people everywhere,
To behold, and admire, and I longed to be one of them,
And though I was lost

I felt familiar with my surroundings, though they didnt look quite right,
Like some place that I had been before under cover of night,
And I found my way by light of day to the centre of the crowd,
And told them I was one of them and begged them for their help,
And with stones they took their aim

And I knew I would die,
At their hands, for I was crowned a heretic,
To be loathed, and set fire, and laid upon a funeral fire.
And as I cast my eyes to the sky I felt your touch

So gentle and so soothing that I knew I had been saved,
But my movements were so laboured and my will had been betrayed,
By my lips, they work alone now and to them I am enslaved,
And the slightest indiscretions that I made were met with rage,
And I burned to be free

And then you rescued me,
With your voice, and beckoned me beside you,
And your touch was alive, sensational and vibrant,
And with care, in your words you said

Sleep it is a stealthy thing, you can not know its plans,
But you were only dreaming dear and youre here with me again,
And you asked if Id recount to you the spirit of my night,
And you handed me this pad and this pen with which to write,
While its fresh, in your mind

Before it gets away (x9)