Countless Hours To Come
Something is happening to the world around me
I look at how far all these people I know have come, and I wonder how far I myself have come
I see pictures of childhood friends grown to the age of marriage
It makes me feel old, It makes me feel older than I'd like to feel
There are so many people I used to know and see every day of my life for years
Now I don't know much about them
These people have amazing lives, so where does that leave me?
If someone stepped back and saw me, would they like what they see?
The people I never wanted to stop being around are gone
They have new friends, new faces, new dreams in new places
They have grown to become men and women, when I still feel like I child
I do not know where to begin
Most smiles seem more real now than they did back then
There is more life behind them, more experience, more things to smile about
That is beautiful, really.
Everyone is going towards something greater
Some people's paths fit the standard of standard living better than others
I miss that sometimes; I miss having a plan
Instead of waking up on the brink of my sanity every single day
Instead of waking up and thinking that nothing has changed
This is not real to me; this is just the most elaborate play I've ever performed
When the curtain falls, I'll meet her backstage
I'll play songs on my acoustic guitar that I wrote for her
I'll drive through windy canyons on winding roads with the friends that haunt my dreams
We'll laugh, and laugh, and laugh
And through the static of the radio, and the moment differences between our words and our smiles
I will find comfort in the silence.
I miss having days and days to express how I felt.
I miss having weeks, and weekends, and days to count.
I miss knowing that even though we could only be together for an hour today, there are countless hours to come
And I miss the wind and it's playfulness as it blows in the car window and through every part of me.
I look at how far all these people I know have come, and I wonder how far I myself have come
I see pictures of childhood friends grown to the age of marriage
It makes me feel old, It makes me feel older than I'd like to feel
There are so many people I used to know and see every day of my life for years
Now I don't know much about them
These people have amazing lives, so where does that leave me?
If someone stepped back and saw me, would they like what they see?
The people I never wanted to stop being around are gone
They have new friends, new faces, new dreams in new places
They have grown to become men and women, when I still feel like I child
I do not know where to begin
Most smiles seem more real now than they did back then
There is more life behind them, more experience, more things to smile about
That is beautiful, really.
Everyone is going towards something greater
Some people's paths fit the standard of standard living better than others
I miss that sometimes; I miss having a plan
Instead of waking up on the brink of my sanity every single day
Instead of waking up and thinking that nothing has changed
This is not real to me; this is just the most elaborate play I've ever performed
When the curtain falls, I'll meet her backstage
I'll play songs on my acoustic guitar that I wrote for her
I'll drive through windy canyons on winding roads with the friends that haunt my dreams
We'll laugh, and laugh, and laugh
And through the static of the radio, and the moment differences between our words and our smiles
I will find comfort in the silence.
I miss having days and days to express how I felt.
I miss having weeks, and weekends, and days to count.
I miss knowing that even though we could only be together for an hour today, there are countless hours to come
And I miss the wind and it's playfulness as it blows in the car window and through every part of me.
"Lately, I've been accustomed to the way
The ground opens up and envelops me
Each time I go out and walk the dog.
Or the broad edged silly music the wind
Makes when I run for a bus -
Things have come to that.
And now, each night I count the stars.
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted
I count the holes they leave.
Nobody sings anymore.
And then last night, I tiptoed up
To my daughter's room and heard her
Talking to someone, and when I opened
The door, there was no one there...
Only she on her knees,
Peeking into her own clasped hands."
The ground opens up and envelops me
Each time I go out and walk the dog.
Or the broad edged silly music the wind
Makes when I run for a bus -
Things have come to that.
And now, each night I count the stars.
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted
I count the holes they leave.
Nobody sings anymore.
And then last night, I tiptoed up
To my daughter's room and heard her
Talking to someone, and when I opened
The door, there was no one there...
Only she on her knees,
Peeking into her own clasped hands."
- Leroi Jones, "Preface To A Twenty Volume Suicide Note"
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