I’m lost in the day
and I wallow in the hour
I question the sky
and it’s mysterious power

I gaze about me
and looking for a reason
why I’m here and there
in the corners of the season

I find a way
to reach deep inside
to grab, to hold
hold on for the ride

I travel high above
this melancholy day
I ask, I speak
but I’ve nothing much to say

and the time at bay
is soft as honey hand
I look, I find
it’s getting easier to stand

standing here waiting
for peace across the sky
keeping the fire in my soul
and the lightning in my eye

(from “Part Four: Tragic Glorious”)

Title stolen from a line from a Tom Waits song: “Well, the eggs chase the bacon ’round the frying pan”.