Slow Mo

Under the dream of growing taller, in its infancy of form,

how I wished I could have stopped it then

from learning how to crawl.

In the shadow of my father I couldn't help from feeling small.

In a crowded world for dreamers I wanted so much more.

Slo mo, I got a new song to reach her

somewhere under the bleachers, it's only a lark.

Lost inside of a moment of free space

before getting claimed like a suitcase,

dragged off into the dark.

Does she know I tiptoe into the heart?

Then in the clean slate of her bedroom,

where some day I will lie,

maybe she'll wish she'd never opened up

my skull and crawled inside into my dream of extra legroom,

see the seduction I design.

Tell me that maybe I should make something

and save it for myself.

And I close my eyes while I am lying still...

The pulse might slow, but stop it never will.

Slo mo, I got a new song to reach her

somewhere under the bleachers, but it's only a lark.

She'd say "there goes the moment of free space,"

before getting claimed like a suitcase, dragged off into the dark.

Now she knows I tiptoe, she knows I tiptoe into the heart.