Strands

There is a slowness on the throttle A sterility at an end Painted out of a corner Breaks to bind the strands To decide within the barnstorm Or shadows feeding in the lurch Just survive by a stone's throw The decision wheels at work Peace be found, if temporary Sirens stir the seeds of regret Gathered clouds or unleashing Signs to walk, then place your bet The squatters on high stations The talkers is that hold sway Verbal backslide rushes out Like grapeshot fine spray No anchor-drop sanctuary No remedy tends to show No finding it uncovered Just a wide swing tremolo Broken down, lessons learned Redeemed on epitaphs By blindfolded regulars With countenance to switch back Echo farewell to midnight To the loneliness of the chase To the minutes past his red-letter To elysian fields defaced No pangs provide delivery Breaking out of the throes No reverie decided Just a wide swing tremolo No mercy in pokerface Lend an ear before you go No sentence yet decided Just a wide swing tremolo