Not just the mighty have fallen,
not all have heard the call
sometimes it is not far to fall
before you hit the bottom
How many fathoms to the deep,
high and desolate the Keep,
how long shall Echo's willows weep
at the water's edge?
My dreams are bubbles made of tears
filled with foolish hope
always bursting 'round my ears
and yet like i fool i fall each time
believing words told me
as i wait and pine
for the dream, the wish, the hope
that has never been mine
if only in my mind's eye
i can believe for a short time
till i am again struck blind with grief
at the loss, the disbelief
will i never be released
always chained to my prison wall?
No comments:
Post a Comment