THE EVIDENCE

It’s the consequence of privileged information.
You can run, you can hide,
But light will find a way
And wither away

Haunted and haunting, we all are followed
By shadows from martyrs and mercenaries
Diseased by information
Plagued by what we know.

Down the empty corridor to the coroner
It’s clear, you’ve got what they want, and they’ll find you
Haunted and haunting, we are followed by shadows
Plagued by what we know

Burn the evidence; It’s enough to make a case
It’s enough to incriminate


It’s just a matter of time before they find, find out.
It’s just a matter of time, young man.


(Her fingers, like spiders
Spun a web my body couldn’t shed)

It’s just a matter of time before they find, find out.
It’s just a matter of time, young man.

-The Receiving End of Sirens

MARITIME KNOWLEDGE

Drill into my brain
With maritime knowledge, manual restraint
You’ll keep ignorance as a close companion
Just be sure to take a vacation from the truth
So the apple won’t fall far from the tree with forbidden fruits
And many wanderers will walk right off the face of the earth
Smile back, trek into abysmal buoyancy
Illustrating our lives with urgency
And a tendency to stay aloof

Drill into my brain
With honor we must face resistance
Like an unadulterated perennial question
I beg of the one who asks
With our hands wide open
Drop the weapons, remove all masks
Bask in the fragrance of all the roses that were given
They die just to bring us flowers
With coffins on a misson
In death, brush the cheeks with red
Lingering for hours
Flies circling the head

Drill into my brain
Leaving just enough blood to create the vital stain
Red herring, swept from dusk
Without the dawn’s eye caring
Fluids oozing out like lust
And masters never daring to ask whereupon nor why
I have been crafted into a sorrowful ghost
Ghastly I tear by
On into a night once painted, tickled with only the most royal of blues
When the messenger has fainted
When we won’t absorb his news

Drill into my brain
With maritime knowledge
With egotism so mundane
Accompanied by mighty horses
Victorious yet drained
Has my chariot sent us flailing?
A course on night terror repeats
Does anyone feel pain?
When the sobs are met with sheets
Perhaps it was a blessing
This seagoing tale of friends
And like the man on television sells you, you can all erase your sins
When medication fails you
When wits have met their ends
Call on a greater understanding
One which navigates the bends

~THOMAS