WHEN THE HOUR GROWS LATE
Far away from all things else
I laid down in the bed
And I buried myself
They could not unearth me
Not by shovel, plow, or crane
I've come to belong here, you see
For I'm in need of no pain
Far away from all things else
I stared at the TV
And crawled into myself
They could not flush me out
Not by whisper, song, or wail
I'm in need of this hiding, you see
The way that two lungs need the air
Far away from all things else
I swallowed the pill
And succumbed to myself
They could not see the fire
Not by vision, art, or prayer
This was no escape, you see
But a panicked gasp for air
Far away from all things else
I tried to run
But caught up with myself
They could not slow my gait
For I would soon be there
I can feel it creeping in, you see
Long before it's hardly there
Far away from all things else
I lost my mind
And I found myself
They could not imagine it
Not unless they'd once been there
The path is dark, you see
But there are lights that hang down from the air
Far away from all things else
I dug through the dirt
And unearthed myself
The darkness was so heavy
So heavy, I might break
But the light will shine brightest
When the hour grows late.
