Sit by that sacred stone
That overlooks the waters of liquid gold
and your soul is a fire
That burns at the touch of freezing cold.
You still walk that sacred path
That leads to fantasies of forever
and your dreams are pale burning flame
Cocooned in caskets of smouldering shame.
You still fly on those sacred wings
That gives you the strength of angels
and when it's broken, you fall down
Into a pit forged from the basest of earthly crowns
You still believe in a humanity
That tears at your heart
and the pain is a comfort
faint, unyielding..
till all you have,
Even your beloved life
Is eventually cut short.
They say Fate is an erroneous drummer.
But everyone dances to her beat.
And through the years, her sounds grow stranger,
And so must the movement of our feet.
