All of the truest moments we share
Are born out of the ghosts
That stalk our sleeping minds
All the clarity that flows in words
As they are printed on the page
Come from the darkest place we know

Now my head is like a dust bowl
A desert in the drought
There's no life to talk about
There's no light to praise or curse
I must be somewhere in the middle
Of joy and deepest pain
Somewhere that the ghosts don't go
Somewhere that art
Simply knows no home...

All the most accurate accounts
Ever detailed of past experience
Formed themselves in a wounded time
All the most intricate and accomplished
Phrasings grew there in my confusion
When I was still beginning to understand

Now my hands are not as deft
They shake as I place the pieces
There's no great naivety anymore
There is nothing left to chance
I must be somehow scared to risk
The experiment is over
Somehow clearer of what I want
Somehow certain now
I cannot achieve it anymore...

The age of invention is over
It has faded like old friendships
Oh, I was happy there for a time
Lost at sea creating something new
And closer to my potential

The age of invention is over
It has faded like old friendships
Oh, we speak barely ever now
Lost among the duties of living
And neglectful of my potential...

(2008)