Good Lord

When a sigh of exhilaration becomes exasperation...
I considered calling this song Feathers, as in, "This bird has flown."

Why write more? All feels abundantly clear to me. 


Good Lord
I know this song. It goes on too long
I know how it ends. No, we are not friends
You just up and disappear and you leave me standing here
holding no grudge, no hope, no hands, no hostages.

But you made me take a chance when I’d forgotten how to dance.
And you made my spirit sing and that’s no small thing.
Then, without discussing why, decided you would fly
Leaving no trace, no feathers, no, no second chance.

You brought your dice this time, but I’m just not game.
Against my own advice, I held you nearly dearer than my name.

Are you still thinking about me? At least once a day.
Do you think that maybe we...  Good Lord, no way. Good Lord, no way.

I’ve read this tale. I know it fairly well.  Was there a kiss? You know I’ll never tell
Was there any plot? I guess maybe not.
But I was turned up, turned inside out and on, as well.

You brought your dice this time, but I’m just not game.
It’s kind of nice to hear your voice again. Now, please go away.

Am I afraid? Do I wish you’d stayed to make a bigger mess of me?
Are you insane or only vain? Without jest, the best that I can say is thank you, no and please.