Coal And Snow

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Walked into a time machine,
where it all fell apart,
like watchin' demolition
from a hallway in the dark.
Something there was clicking,
sounded like those metal balls.
Sounded like a drum machine.
Sounded from the walls.
I was like a gargoyle,
standin' still n lookin' down
over all the river's wealth
and time lost to this town.
I chose a spot I didn't know,
to pass the falling rain,
and my angel slept between my feet,
and I missed home again.
Time for something different;
I thought about the need.
Keys inside my pocket, silent,
offered distance, peace and speed.
I wish I could make some sense
out of all these days.
I wish my mind would reinvent
these old desires it went n made.
Maybe something's different, now.
I wondered, all these years.
But when I call to find it out,
I find myself in tears.
Maybe I don't want to know.
Maybe I always knew.
There's something I don't talk about
And that something isn't you.
I washed my hands of my affairs,
to see myself, again.
I left myself a set of tires,
to go when I knew when.
And all across the wintered trail,
I saw the mountain grow.
As far as I could strain my neck,
a summit I would never know.
A feeling that could only grow.
A silent film in coal and snow.
A spirit in a dreamscape show.
A voice that I should prob'ly know.
I felt the ice and let it drip
from hand to foot, from eye to lip.
I watched the ground and found my grip.
And then I let it slip.