An ancient tomb, this thought I have
that houses bards of long before
and boards the hoards of poet smiles
just behind its creaking door
that houses bards of long before
and boards the hoards of poet smiles
just behind its creaking door
it's open enough to tempt me more
to look behind its creaking door
to look behind its creaking door
for ponderings are a pool so cold
that freezes faces in gaping stare
and steals the wandering wonderers
from the current before they're aware
that freezes faces in gaping stare
and steals the wandering wonderers
from the current before they're aware
thieving moments of time so rare
from the present before they're aware
from the present before they're aware
these moments I feed to hungry dogs
the pets of parasitical mental ghosts
yet gladly I relinquish life's length
for those inkings on papers of posts
the pets of parasitical mental ghosts
yet gladly I relinquish life's length
for those inkings on papers of posts
over deliberating coals my mind roasts
for many an inking on paper and posts
for many an inking on paper and posts
leaves in Autumn are those words from me
scatter to the wind after turning once more
to collect at some forgotten tomb's foot
and burying its creaking aged door
scatter to the wind after turning once more
to collect at some forgotten tomb's foot
and burying its creaking aged door
from the dead, new life rises in the core
of what lingers behind the creaking door
of what lingers behind the creaking door
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