Fast falling rain and
rumbling thunder.
A healing refrain,
a sky torn 'sunder.

Great are the clouds
that heal the land.
The Lord's great blessing
for fields of Man

I can touch you
And feel you
I can hear you
And see you
This is real
But why do you feel like an Angel.  
Too perfect to be real.

I lay to rest and shut my eyes
What dream shall fall before I rise
I doze off into beauteous sleep
Oh 'I pray the Lord my soul to keep'.

Next I feel impending harm
Awe-stricken gaze peers to my arm
I watch as bugs crawl under skin
They journey in, oh journey in.

Maggots and worms and crawly things
My cries form sheer, horrific screams
My body decaying, a death-colored rot
My end be the only thing that I sought.

I woke up startled, scratching skin
Worried intruders had found a way in
Hours have passed, the feeling has not
Lord, in my mind, may my senses be fought.

Your warm embrace is one I miss
This snowy December day
And though my brain is on the fritz
And yours a sim'lar way
Your warm embrace is all I miss
This cold, December day.

I close my eyes and harken back
To when I held you last.
My brain is warm, no longer black
Lit by thoughts of our past.
No matter what we seem to lack
Our love is meant to last.

there's always this one reason
that made us all a poet
and that lonesome experience
we never wanted

Arthur's kingdom, bright, so clearly shines
Among the grassy knolls of Briton
The Round-Table knights patrol the land
That Ol' Winter has clearly bitten.

With poor peasants freezing in their shacks
Their love for Arthur keeps them smitten
They don't remember the last they saw
Of the Almighty King of Briton.

The Round-Table knights now carry guns
And your tales have all been rewritten.
Oh what must we do to summon back
Our old sleep-stricken king of Briton?

The world is different now, my Lord
And in new tales may you be written.
With sword in hand, Lord please striketh down
The ****** New-Rulers of Briton.