Clyde
The silence is deafening
the moon's face is reddening
the heartache is deadening
the daybreak is threatening
The birds circle over,
dropping feathers,
fluff you up a bed
A train sounds a lonely horn
You hold your ears against it,
now it's gone.
Hold your breath, it won't be long
They'll find out that you won't be moving on
Hot sparks are flying,
metal screeching,
screaming toward the dawn
The passengers strain to see
the gruesome curiosity
of iron and velocity
roaring on with such ferocity
The birds circle over,
dropping feathers,
fluff you up a bed.