A Fallen Angel Under A Dark Moon

Rooms on Fire

Stevie Nicks

Somewhere out in the back of your mind

Comes your real life and the life that you know

It seems like it was the creation of some of those same old things

It seemed to be the only thing left out in the light

She had trusted many

But been unfamiliar with

Almost everyone but you

Well maybe I'm just thinking that the rooms are all on fire

Everytime that you walk in the room

Well there is magic all around you, if I do say so myself

I have known this much longer than I've known you

She had trusted many

And then there would be someone who would enter into her presence

That she could sense for miles

She dreamed of her wanton luxury

And she laughed and she cried and she tried to taunt him

And he hated to be separated

From that picture... No...

Well maybe I'm just thinking that the rooms are all on fire

Everytime that you walk in the room

Ooh, well there is magic all around you, if I do say so myself

Well I have known this much longer than I've known you

Long nets of white cloud my memory

Long nets of white cloud my memory

Ooh there is magic all around you

Everytime you walk in the room

Well maybe I'm just thinking that the rooms are all on fire

Everytime that you walk in the room

Well there is magic all around you, if I do say so myself

Well I have known this much longer than I've known you

There never seems to be enough time for those perfect moments... You know them when you feel them, and just as surely, you know they have to end... And that lends to those moments a bittersweet quality that urges you to capture it in your memory - the tone of a voice, the sound of the rain on the roof, the taste on your lips, the emotions that are surging through you... And yet, while you're doing this, trying so hard to preserve that moment - you can't share it with the one who caused it... There aren't words... It is so unifying and intimate, and yet it is separate too... A crystalline thought that shines out only through your eyes because it can't emerge from your lips...

But I wish I could make a scrapbook of those moments I could place into his hands... It would be full of sweet smiles pressed between pages of laughter... Shimmering tears of joy, hilarity, sorrow, and grief would affix the amorphous shapes of emotions to leaves made from slices of my soul... Sun bright golden clouds of bliss, pale green swirls of comfort, and burgundy tempests of passion... It would be a book like no other, and one whose creation could not have been accomplished without his influence in my life... If I could present him with such a book, perhaps he could finally see what I see - himself through my eyes... Not perfect, but perfectly imperfect...

I can't stop the world from spinning... I can't make those perfect moments linger in timelessness eternally... I can only store them - precious treasures all - close inside my heart, woven into the tapestry of my being... And share them through the lovelight he brings into my eyes...