One enchanted evening,
as I lay on my bed,
I took two little square mirrors
and placed them end to end.
Then, just to play with the moonlight,
I raised one ninety degrees.
That s when the spokes started spinning -
sucked my soul from it s eaves.
Thirteen times I ve sipped the wine -
dispelled the myth of time.
Took the heat of the sacrifice
and returned to ride.
13X.
Takes it s toll on the flesh and bones,
this dimensional dance.
If curiousity s killing me -
it s got the seat of my pants.
So, if you re lookin for answers
or just out for kicks,
don t be a distant cousin.
You all know where I live.
I ll walk you through where the mirrors meet
to a place
we ll be free to speak.
Between the sadness of sacrifice
to the belly
of the beast.
The Seventh Son of the Setting Sun
lays a shroud
on all that s black and white.
The narcotic of nightmare
pulses greyness out
in silvery sheets.
|
Printer Friendly Version
