In the womb, we kick and scream towards the light
taken from our warm refuge into a place too bright
upon a strange journey, where all souls are placed
where shadows kiss, and loved ones embrace
where footsteps through alleys have gone clitter-clatter
and there are ghosts of old dance halls, and faded chitter-chatter
dancing ghosts flicker in a lost flame
once a part of a magic, tragic game
and we ponder change atop immortal hills
as we are all bonded by destiny, and our own free wills
faded memories, like scars they hurt
better to leave them buried, in the dirt
the world keeps moving, even for shattered souls
and beneath the sun, the ocean, it rolls, and rolls, and rolls. |
