the key

My love for you has received
it's death sentence.

My wounded heart holds
hand on switch.

I wait by phone and pray for that call.

Only you, governor of our fate,
hold the key.




This "my love for you" sits
in electric chair.




The clock ticks away to midnight,
when switch be thrown.

This time grows so much nearer
than you can imagine,




for this last thing I ever wanted to see.

My heart's ears pray to hear
that phone's ring,

announcing that
"my love for you"
has received
a stay of execution,
a pardon,
it's clemency.




This innocent pure love
that has done no wrong,
but was placed in this chair,
with this sentence passed.

The time is so close at hand,
and once passed,
the ashes can not be
in your arms held,




if the phone,
it rings
all
too
late.

Will the phone ring
or
the electricity flow,

this I want to know.