The pounding is the anvil-
hits your temples-

             Two by four,
                    two by four

Pull it out and dance some more.
I am grey and you are black,
   as we grab for their hands all veiled in white.
dancing further darker still
Fear what we will see, when upon tomorrow morn,
           light is cast upon the floor and we find we have shown our naked selves.

The cups of tea lie cold-
          Images of the stories
Spilling from the cracked edge of our souls-
            A trickle- now a broken floodgate, now a waterfall
the beat that hits (from ear to ear)
           beats again and again and again

             Two by four
                    Two by four
A canvas stretched from top to floor
We are mirrored there,
Our pigment souls we stop to watch.
The flaming red, the phantom white
No- I am grey and you are black as we step- back  
                               and forth
                                      then back.
We dance to this- the epitaph of life-
           Let us burn a torch to light the night- upon this pire our self and soul
(the flame fuled with tea and parchment grows),
                                               We watch it grow
                                                              and grow.
Desperate thoughts of death and peace in life
             of a rope and a tree and a beacon light
(Is it there?)
Somewhere...we dare to hope
And we dance to the tune of this feeble thought.
The violins mirror the beat of the hunt-
             As we step back and forth in the death of the life that we knew to be rest
(of what we thought meant "alive")
             until we stepped into this-
what it is to be deprived of peace.

               ----------------------
The beat starts to fade-
               -the dancing slows
When the hand on your shoulder, palapable Death-
              Calls, for his own, a trembling, tune.

In fate's black dress you step in and walk-
                             slowly round' embraced in his arms

              Back
                   
                      Forth
   
              Back

You are now on the edge of this marble hall-
              He asks you to fall into his gentleman hands
(It is the cold hit of silk on your bare white arms that reminds you agian that perhaps he is warm).
             (And thats all you want- for the beating to stop.)
Just as you start to reach for his embrace (?)
A voice from behind wispers your name
Broken and cold
(but at least they are here)
Enigma that they love you
            and know the rhythm of the beat that hits your ears.

You have now stepped and turned-
And see (though torn and frail and taught and thin)-
              Existence on a rail perhaps, but existence it remains
And though you dance to a flickering tune you are dancing all the same.
We dance to this and to the end of this mean
and we dance to the expectant thought of seeing a reason better than the rope
              - that the pounding will recede before we tear ourselves apart.

And we dance
             One two,
                  One two
Because we arent the only ones standing on the edge,
Who pray to see the stars-
           then curse them in their sleep.

Our hands are weak,
But we hold them tighter than anything we ever have.
Each with pieces of eachothers hearts we crawl now through the corridors of walls-
In the back of our minds the fear of something falls
Is falling faster now,
And our steps hit
                  Two by four
                         Two by four
Until we break into a run
The sulfur fog and the smoke and the sounds of the scream of rain
          make us fear we shall come undone.
We run until we fall and until the concrete at the end reminds us we are still
And we wake- but the beat is carried on in the shaking of our knees,
and its cold even with the flames tied aroudn our wastes.
I give a toe touch to say that we are-
And that we are here
            But we are frightened all the same.

            ------------------------------------------
Yes, I am grey and you are black-
                but we are faded all the same.
We dance to the tune of a broken life, to the sun after the storm
And if forty days recede the flood- and drowning we reamin-
we are held in the fact that we drown holding hands
Perhaps that itself is the flame.
We have conquered you all- death and life, hope, the fall-
So the beat carries on
             One two
                     One two

We step back and forth at the edge of the beat,
                we wait on the edge of existence.
                ---------------------------

Though at times we dance in the face of pain
Though we dance to the tune of a flickering tune,
                          we are dancing all the same
Though at times we dance to a faded light
                           dancing we must remain.