*museum Poem by Christopher's Dead

I can't believe this laced in anger
Like drinking from a well
For basing pieces of our nightlong
Conversations with ourselves
Chris says he feels the same way
That leaving here might kill him
Leaving home eight months ago
I might have said the same thing

Cheating death is a long way from
Living like we should be
A change of heart is knowing where
You never want to be again

This is a time of revelations
So mysteriously forlorn
Eight months ago thinking in circles
And hiding in the storm
These things that made us so romantic
Lying sunbathed in our skin
I get the impression if we don't go back
We will never miss it

We can drink in the life
That remains
Longer days and shorter nights
I think it's time to live again

These old thoughts are undertones
Like wet screen doors
Seen through backwards
These fading lights like museum walls
Show what once has been
But is losing lust

We step foot on
the ship that sets sail
Underneath the winds that carry us
Now it's knowing whether or not
It's moving where we want