We're driving, just me and God.

We're driving, just me and God
It's raining, it's raining hard
The windows are steaming up
The bridge engulfed by fog
The rust of the metal bridge
It beckons, it blows me in
I argue, I scream at God
And what he's offering

My hands fly off the steering wheel
Can't recall getting here
If I could, I would reach behind
And turn my light on
My thoughts run off the beaten track
There's no light
How's the way back
Take the hand of God and bite the feeder
No more lingering

This song from Darren Hayes' latest album, "This Delicate Thing We've Made", is achingly beautiful - it's been on repeat ever since I first listened to it four days ago. Just a couple evenings ago, I was sitting in my car in an empty, darkened parking lot with the engine running and the headlights turned off, as the haunting melody cut through what seemed at that moment (oh the irony!) to be an interminable silence.

I'm driving, I talk to God
He's screaming, I only nod
I need to be where you are
The leaves and trees are shaking
It's raining, the bullets melt
The hunger, of hunger itself
It's draining but pain has reservoirs
It keeps for itself

I'm falling, I'm not myself
I'm diving, I'm underneath
The huddle of a mighty ship
That steams away from here
The bubbles, the surface waves
They're shining, they replicate
I hear it
The voice of God is laced with
Sarcasm in your head

I'd give anything to retrace my footsteps and start all over again. I should have stayed, stopped to smell the roses, and bent over to retie my loose shoelace, before continuing on my way - instead of rushing along blindly and tumbling headfirst into a thorny bush after tripping over my undone sneaker.

My thoughts run off the beaten track
There's no light
How's the way back
Take the hand of God and bite the feeder
No more lingering

My hands fly off the steering wheel
Can't recall getting here
If I could, I would reach behind
And turn my light on