one note before we choose to expire

you see

it is one moment 

that quiets the storm;

moments

we compose

in studios at 3 a.m;

the world is still

and

the glass of wine

finds

the in between

what we believe

and what we create

before the sun meets the moon,

The streetlights

create

the shadows

we find in the notes upon a violin;

a door slammed

between

what we know is real;

echoes of sunday afternoons

when we laughed

before

our words were slienced.

We hope for the normal

but

the

anger wont allow us the freedom from

the baton of lies;

austrailia;

england;

everywhere

we hope to survive.