I can almost see shimmering faery As I recline on moss But there isn't enough primrose There are only wishes in A hidden forest I can almost see ghosts As I shiver on icy floorboards But Amelia is asleep in winter There are only prayers In a secret house I was lost by the wayside Amidst the groans of a tired time There is nothing for me here The tales of the flute by the fire A stroll through a sombre evening Smoke enticing from their pipes...pipes And the honourable visions of a pulseless mind d**h comes in an instant If you like But Amelia may be waking soon When I sleep, I can't pull myself away, Yet But I know there are mansions out there, Maybe on Saturn or Mars or Mercury or Luna,
Maybe on Saturn or Mars or Mercury or Luna, ...Maybe this is a clue. I'd never been washed ashore Or seen the droll night before My body vanished I hovered in the concourse Of the court of thousands Of yellow asphodel It hurts remembering the fragance of Heaven. We lived in the rowans, avoiding mad water Spoiling our children with tea and mushrooms Early in the autumn as we slept by the oven Someone sent a shape who tore the house apart. Our bond was shattered, I was drawn away I was caught praying in the shade. Recently, I went back to my door And breathed... It was love filtered through yellow paraffin We pushed with all our might For you...