Matthew Edward Peterson (12/21/1983 / Salt Lake City, UT)

you are like this floating phantom, thing
that has feeling and a beat
but somehow incomplete
    like these nerves are shooting you up
  with the heroin
      and the music
  and the flame
and the arrow
     and the silence
 
you are never there for me to feel
  except when you take over
    and the music's real
 
where is the hand i seek
and where is the strum
  and beating of the drum
 
i am numb
 
you are in my imagination
   and for a regular man
             you aren't real
but to me surreal
cause i can feel
    the touch
and the melody flowing
  and the words growing
   and changing
 and aiming
 
play my hand and steal my land
i am open
 
for i think i am better 
     for life is a letter
and the sthrength
   i think
 
has been sent