When silence screamed and light grew faint,
You were the color, the complaint.
You were the friend who knew the dread,
The frantic voices in my head.
You didn`t try to make it right,
Just split the darkness with your light.
In soaring solos, I was free,
You built a bridge to get to me.
I rode the pulse of “Time`s” cruel race,
Saw my own fears in the “Dogs” cold face.
I floated on “The Great Gig`s” tide,
With nowhere left to run or hide.
You didn`t try to make it right,
Just shone a strange electric light.
On all the cracks, the hurt, the shame,
And in your sound, I found my name.
And though the room is often bare,
And I retreat to my own chair,
I find a truth, a quiet tome…
“When I pick up the phone
There`s still nobody home…”
