Mr. 500

Whether our blocking is static
Or the facts start to change,
Every day's breath is one more to say:
The show must go on...so turn the page!
What a life so perfectly pitched and staged
With Murphy's law, a perfect storm,
And ending score perfectly played.
These lines aren't lies I'm paid to say
They're alternate spellings to
This name that I've made, comprised of
Christmas music on a cold night
A someone by your side,
A fire in your eyes.
Laying down a sweaty beat
To harmonies we keep,
Making a memory settle in deep.
Digging out courage to dig up the bones,
To make love not alone
To make this heart a home.
Oh, what a delight when these hands are full of light,
And I see it every month when these memories bind.
When picking these stars up from under the door,
And it opens to show me an ethereal shore
Where lapping waves and sandy pages
Make life's unbreakable bonds.
These Fields are real and where I belong,
I'm five-hundred strong, and longing for more.