Come gather 'round the flick'ring lights

of wood and heat and time;

come listen to the soft still voice of

days long gone and evenings dark for

morning is a very long way down.

Come pour the water on the lights

until they gleam and glow;

they crackle deep within the earth and

protest well into the night for

morning is a very long way down.

Come find a friend or two or three

and leave the knife behind;

come dance and sing and learn and grow

and love and lie and live and laugh for

morning is a very long way down.

Come seek the ashes of the lights

and skeletons of shoes;

and empty cans and scattered nuts and

stillborn hands and feet and lives for

morning is a very long way down.

Come see the scattered, broken eyes

and mouths that dare not cheer;

come celebrate for just the night

and stare into the flick'ring flames;

For morning comes on silver rays

that haunt the lives and steal the dreams

that stop the tongue and freeze the mind--

so drink the merry night away

and let the eyes and heart be free

for dawn will come and start again

the lives they wish were all pretend--

As

morning

is a

very

long

way

down.