BRUNK HOWARD


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dark side of darkness

We are clothed in night’s shadow

Listening to moths lose their place.

The room seems so narrow

It feels like air has run out of space.

It should be your caress

But instead I feel the embrace

Of the dark side of darkness.


Yes this is meant to be the place

To feel your arms and your kiss.

But I can’t help feeling the dark side of darkness.

What makes it be like this? Like this, like this,

What makes it be like this?


Moon light moves through a Spanish moss curtain.

Lake sounds are muffled but they are certain.

I am falling through a night of owl flights

That never reach land.

Where am I meant to stand? Where, where,

Where am I meant to stand?

And I can’t help feeling the dark side of darkness.

What makes it be like this? Like this, like this,

What makes it be like this?


Wagons move off; sometimes they come.

What are they coming for and where from?

Mosquito netting, like a veil of tears.

Closeness seems so far away after all these years.

I’m touching your arms and your kiss

But I can’t help feeling the dark side of darkness.

What makes it be like this? Like this, like this,

What makes it be like this?


Breeze comes up as the moon is going down.

Canoe is setting off from the dark side of town.

It glides through water that parts with its feel.

Moon’s light reflects off of gun-gray steel.


Strong arms push it towards night’s shadow,

Towards a room that feels so narrow.

I’m swimming in the dying moonlight

Trying to reach shore before it fades out of sight.

I’m reaching for your arms and your kiss

But I can’t help feeling the dark side of darkness.

What makes it be like this? Like this, like this,

What makes it be like this?