I buried pook beneath the willow tree, for when the spring came he loved to sit and watch the blossoms falling, and in my heart he will stay my little man who has gone away.

It was the ravens crow as it lit apon the remains ,that brought his head up through the blood and tears, darkest angel it looked through the veil,and laying back the darkness availed

bring guns, bombs too, watch us die two by two, hands can heal ,but stocks can mold and in this another man is sold ,forgotten grass and blue filled sky, as you look into another mans eyes, to watch him wain and fall in vain, and all that was left was a blood colored stain, so the man is gone the machine is done and the world goes marching on.

the light i saw from the corner of my eye,
many years gone from now,
a flicker fading into the depths of memory,
it could have been a face i saw in the window,
in the third place, above the looking glass,
where the moon lights the dark,
deep in my head

i watched you die my love,
wither and fade,
as if you where merely smoke in a breeze,
and i was powerless to change,
so you blew away from me.
wondering if you where ever there at all,
a life, a lie, a roseless door

when the grass has grown old,
and the body lays cold in the browning wheat,
the evening tears have fallen leaving diamond traces,
a nightingale sings a somber song, it sounds like a maiden weeping,
and like the ghost of the wind
I lay in the wheat field