A Conversation With God
|
By Darren Hayes and Justin Shave
|
|
We're driving.
|
Just me and God.
|
It's raining.
|
It's raining hard.
|
The windows are steaming up.
|
The bridge engulfed by fog.
|
The rust of the metal bridge.
|
It beckons.
|
It pulls me in.
|
I argue.
|
I scream at God and what he's offering.
|
|
And my hands fly off the steering wheel.
|
Can’t recall getting here.
|
If I could I would reach behind and turn my light off.
|
My thoughts run off the beaten track.
|
There's no lighthouse or way back.
|
Take the hand of God and bite the feeder.
|
No more lingering.
|
|
I'm driving.
|
I talk to God.
|
He's screaming.
|
I only nod.
|
I need to be where you are.
|
The leaves and trees are shaking.
|
It's raining.
|
The bullets melt.
|
The hunger of hunger itself.
|
It's draining but pain has reservoirs it keeps for itself.
|
|
And my hands fly off the steering wheel.
|
Can’t recall getting here.
|
If I could I would reach behind and turn my light off.
|
My thoughts run off the beaten track.
|
There's no lighthouse or way back.
|
Take the hand of God and bite the feeder.
|
No more lingering.
|
|
I'm falling I’m not in myself.
|
I'm diving.
|
I'm underneath.
|
The hull of a mighty ship that steams away from here.
|
The bubbles.
|
The surface race.
|
They shine and they replicate.
|
I hear it.
|
The voice of God is laced with sarcasm in your hands.
|
|
And my thoughts run off the beaten track.
|
There's no lighthouse or way back.
|
Take the hand of God and bite the feeder.
|
No more lingering.
|
My hands fly off the steering wheel.
|
Can’t recall getting here.
|
If I could I would reach behind and turn my light off.
|
|
-----------------
|
A Conversation with God
|
| Darren Hayes |
