Grandfather sighs soft
ancient wind blows through moonlight...

In the still calm before the storm,
gray air, not a leaf moving...

Is it the dream of hope
or the hope of the dream...

Oh, I pray, please give me the power
in this, my most desperate, despondent...

King of the hill laughing,
laughing I stare in sleepless trance...

It burns the heart, chills the soul,
so damn hard to shake these blues...

Now that it is over,
is there a lesson...

Then came the last days of May
the vigil of the great sun jester is over...

The road is 2,000 years long
and life is as endless...

She used to make me coffee,
she used to make me meals...

Created in our own image,
ever vigilant...

I wonder about
the colour of thought...