nYou were the soundnThat grew beneath the rocksnYou wouldn’t stay for the lightningnnThe screaming groundnThe whirling of the leafsnBut you wanted to give it a go nnA heathen flamenBegging for a namenYou didn’t care for enlightenmentnnThe children’s gamenA god made out of fognYou thought you should give it a gonnTorn yet unbeaten nSpoiled by a draftnWhy am I beingnMourned in the dark? nnThe storm has left us a quivering silencenThe winter will wash it all awaynnI feel like a child entering the worldnThrough the back door and I’m filled with shamennTorn yet unbeaten nSpoiled by a draftnWhy am I beingnMourned in the dark? n
Aliasing
Gram D Mori
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