You come like the wind,
and go like the wind.
But I cannot love the wind,
and I cannot let myself love you.

I would hold you too close:
your smile, your laughter,
the velvet sound of your voice –
I could no more hold them
than I could a storm.

You are beautiful
because you race,
because you soar,
because you a free spirit
drunk on the world.

And in loving you,
I would try to cage you,
and you would wither
in a prison too small
to fit your heart.

So like the wind,
so like the storm,
I watch your work upon the world
from a prison I built
to save myself
from my own heart.

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Summer is in the air,
and the sky is falling.

It is so hot – I cannot breathe.
Summer is in the air,
and the sky is falling.

I fall to my knees;
It is so hot – I cannot breathe.
Summer is in the air,
and the sky is falling.

God must be crying.
I fall to my knees;
It is so hot – I cannot breathe.
Summer is in the air,
and the sky is falling.

Heaven is streaked with starlight tears –
I can hear God crying.
I fall to my knees;
It is so hot – I cannot breathe.
Summer is in the air,
and the sky is falling.

I cannot hear God anymore.
I fall to my knees;
It is so hot.
Summer is in the air,
and the sky is falling.

I fall to my knees;
I cannot breathe.
Summer is in the air,
and the sky is falling.

I can’t feel anything anymore.
Summer is in the air,
and the sky is falling.

Here I lie:
broken, silenced,
breathless, faithless,
beneath the fallen sky.

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You look down on us
as redeemers and saviors,
and people worship you
as prophets and messiahs.

But when was the last time
you dressed in worn-out clothes,
lived from paycheck-to-paycheck,
or worried about making a rent payment?

When was the last time
every step wasn’t choreographed,
every word wasn’t teleprompter-tested,
and every action wasn’t polished to a superhuman shine.

You spread sweetened words,
hoping that we’ll love you,
hoping that we’ll lift you up,
hoping that we’ll make your dreams come true.

You’re called public servants,
but you only serve your own ambitions,
and all your empty promises
won’t put the world to rights.

But maybe I’m just too jaded,
maybe I’m too judgmental,
or maybe I’m just too damn tired
of watching what all of you are doing to our country.

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I shake the world
with every step.
Creating, destroying
with every step.

You hold your breath
with every step.
Your heart in your throat
with every step.

The world goes still
with every step.
A torrent of applause,
with that last step.

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I reach into the darkness
before I remember that you’re gone,
and it’s like losing you all over again.

Because as hard as the days are,
I can manage.
But the unprotected nights
are the worst.

Because my walls are down,
and I miss you,
and I want you back,
I can’t live without you –
but I have to.

So piece-by-piece,
and tear-by-tear,
I rebuild my life
in a lonesome 3:00 am bed,
and promise myself in vain
that this will be the last time I break.

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An idle afternoon dream,
the explosion of a future
from across the room.

The feel of your skin,
the taste of your lips,
the long years stretching out
by your side.

But dreams are for dreaming,
and the waking world
is far more complicated.

Do you already have someone?
Would you welcome my attention?
Would asking be too bold,
or am I not being bold enough?

But you don’t even look at me –
you haven’t this entire time –
and in that realization

I have my answer.

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