i saw the darkness coming down,
it posed no threat to me
i let the dakrness ease its way around
it was every good thing
i'd expected it would be
i saw you coming,
through the twisting vines outside
i saw the new moon collide
with the stars
clustered around her.

i saw the young fruit, of the new lime
i felt your breath catch it's rhythm.
i heard your legs push away the tall dry brush
i saw the moon and the stars
and knew the secrets within them.
i heard you saying
my name into my ear
no one has to tell me
why you've come here,
'cause i know.
i know.
i know.

all sorts of junk in the unattached spare room,
dishes in the kitchen sink,
used straw for the old broom,
friends who don't have a clue,
well meaning teachers,
but down in your arms, in your arms,
i am a wild creature.
                                                                                
floor two foot high with newspapers,
carpet thick with pet hair,
half eaten gallons of ice cream in the freezer,
fresh fuel for the sodium flare,
i write down good reasons to freeze to death
in my spiral-ring notebook
but in the long tresses of your hair,
i am a babbling brook.

let the stars come out, and the moon shine bright
we're sleeping on the porch tonight
wind blew all the power lines down
watch where you step if you go walking around

this may be the night
our bodies fill with light
and we may hover above
the surface of
our warm, lonely planet

let cooling rains come, let them fall
let the grass grow strong and tall
let the dandelions breed
give me what you know I need

this may be the night
our bodies fill with light
and we may hover above
the surface of
our warm, lonely planet

Oh Lord Of Slumber

You've walked the corridors of dream, have you not? When you go back there again, would you tell them I miss the old dreams, the ones I had when I was younger... the ones that made me what I was?

What makes you think you can be so pretty?
And what makes you think you can be so great?
And what makes you think you can be so intelligent?
And what makes you think you can be so far away?

It's no stretch to say that I am pulling out my hair
And darling I'm patiently waiting to fly my *** out there
And I love you

What makes you think you can be so wonderful?
And what makes you think you can be so keen?
And what makes me think I can be so hurtful?
And what makes me think I can be so mean?

Girl you know I'm sorry I haven't been the best support
But darling you know that I love you,
And i would build a fort to protect you
From the wind

What makes you think you can be so terrific?
And what makes you think you can be be so neat?
And what makes you think you can be so beau-ti-fic?
And what makes you think you can be so sweet?

It's no stretch to say that I am pulling out my hair
And darling I'm patiently waiting to fly my *** out there
And I love you

HOW YOU SHOULD KNOW US

DEATH, DEFEAT, AND FEAR

We do not die.
We do not fear death.
Destroy the Body, and the Animus is cast into The Darkness.
But the Animus returns.
But we are not all brave.
We feel pain, and fear it.
We feel shame, and fear it.
We feel loss, and fear it.
We hate the Darkness, and fear it.

The Scamps have small thoughts, and cannot fear greatly.
The Vermai have no thoughts, and cannot fear.
The Dremora have deep thoughts, and must master fear to overcome it.

THE CLAN BOND

We are not born;
we have not fathers nor mothers, yet we have kin and clans.
The clan-form is strong. It shapes body and thought.
In the clan-form is strength an purpose

THE OATH BOND

We serve by choice.
We serve the strong, so that their strength might shield us.
Clans serve by long-practice, but practice may change.
Dremora have long served the dreamer but not always so.
Practice is secure when oath-bonds are secure, and trust is shared.
When oath-bonds are weak, there is pain, and shame, and loss, and Darkness, and great fear.

HOW WE THINK ABOUT MAN

Perhaps you find Scamps comic, and Vermai brutish.
How then do you imagine we view you humans?
You are the Prey, and we are the Huntsmen.
The Scamps are the Hounds, and the Vermai the Beaters.
Your flesh is sweet, and the chase is diverting.
As you may sometimes praise the fox or hare, admiring its cunning and speed, and lamenting as the hounds tear its flesh, so do we sometimes admire our prey, and secretly applaud when it cheats our snares or eludes pursuit.
But, like all worldly things, you will in time wear, and be used up.
You age, grow ugly, weak, and foolish.
You are always lost, late or soon.
Sometimes the prey turns upon us and bites.
It is a small thing.
When wounded or weary, we fly away to restore.
Sometimes a precious thing is lost, but that risk makes the chase all the sweeter.

MAN'S MYSTERY

Man is mortal, and doomed to death and failure and loss.
This lies beyond our comprehension - why do you not despair?

Look upon my face and wonder.
Raise your arms that I may look on them and bestow a blessing.
Know that battle is a blessing.
Know that death is an eventuality.
Know that you are dust in my eyes.
Long is the arm of the Dreamer, and swift is the blade.
Deep is the cut, and subtle is the poison.
Worship, o faithful. Pray your death is swift.
Worship, o faithful. Pray your death is quiet.
Worship, o faithful. Worship the glory that is the Dreamer.