from Mighty Above All Things/ words and music ©2003 Z.Oberzan. All rights reserved.

Peculiar Wedding

Something peculiar happened that day, the day of the wedding feast
The bride, she tried to throw her bouquet but found she couldn't release
She tried again but to no avail, then blowing the crowd a kiss
She tried with one more wild flail and her hand came off at the wrist
To add an insult to injury, the next thing that we knew
The groom committed perjury when he said the words "I do"

You know people, they're discreet, there was just a nervous cough
Though a child whispered from her seat, "I think the reception's off"
The best man thought he'd lend his aid by striking up the band
And meanwhile the Honor Maid went looking for the hand
She found it resting quite serene, atop the wedding cake,
Replacing the plastic figurines. The band played Swan Lake.

The priest it seems was at a loss, this never happened before
He bowed his head and held his cross and whispered to his Lord
The bride, she tried her very best to stuff the gaping wound
But it swallowed up each and every guest, their gifts and all consumed
I don't know what to say to you. I don't know what this means.
I hope the woman is wearing blue when I'm married to my dreams

© 2000 Z. Oberzan


I have learned that the perfect song
is no more than a few words long

I have learned that the perfect view
is when eyes see but don't construe

I have learned that the perfect tense
is not the past but what life presents

I have learned that the perfect thought
can be found but can't be sought

I have learned that the perfect heart
returns at long last to the start

I have learned that the perfect me
only needs a place to be

©2000 Z. Oberzan

The Mess I'm In

You wanted to smoke, I wanted to know
Where do surrogate lovers go
Would you keep me in mind or slowly forget
Or stamp me out like your cigarette

Blue light slinks in
Slivers of dawn are sliding on your skin
And I see the mess I'm in

And both of us must have opened our mouths
I remember some noise, some animal sounds
I'm sure at the time they must have been words
But that's the best my memory serves

Blue light slinks in...

The more I say the more I realize
There is nothing to say, words only disguise
The passionate savage, who tries to inflict
His will on the world with a sharpened stick

Blue light slinks in...

But the world doesn't care, and neither do you
So what's a poor monkey like me to do
I'll look for the tallest tree to climb
When I reach the moon, I'll make it mine

Now I draw the shade
Wondering what would happen if you stayed
And I see the mess I made

If nothing else I am glad you came
You who allowed this monkey to change
His answer to the hard question of
"Haven't you ever fallen in love?"

©2003 Z. Oberzan

Amelia Earhart

Amelia Earhart lay in the grass
Watching the silent clouds roll past
She said, "Where is the love I've never found?
Maybe that kind of love isn't made on the ground."

Now when the last of those clouds rolled by
They revealed a paradox in the sky
Suspended by no visible means
There flew on high a flying machine

She said, "I see you're not one easily bound
By the laws and limits of the ground.
If there's a love, made higher and free
I could find it with you, if you'll only take me."

The machine, he called down, "I can't guarantee
Such a passion as yours will defy gravity."
She looked at the ground. She looked in the air.
She looked up at him. She said, "I don't care."

So down he flew, and she climbed between
The wings of the flying machine
Then up they rose, so far above
To find, to make that kind of love

And as they drew close to what she sought
Her passion grew heavy, his engine grew hot
Then on the brink, just before going down
They found the love you can't make on the ground

Falling to Earth she watched the sun set
No fear, no sorrow, and no regret
She said, "Ah, how sweet this life can be,"
He laughed, and holding her close, smashed into the sea

And that love drifted up with the smoke and the steam
Back to the realm of the flying machines
So lay yourself in the grass, and when the clouds part
Behold the love of Amelia Earhart

©2003 Z. Oberzan