The bayed back feeling that once was you
Boiling down the ethereal , in differences
I cross the twi's lights knowing I will be
here . . . for a thousand years
This is astound , no reason is clear
Where the smell of grass comes to pass
You remember a kiss that won't disappear
. . . . . . beyond a thousand years
Tuesday . . . dragging the clouds away
Hearing the voices that were never there
Telling me to hang my ethereals out to dry
It may take a thousand years
Cold hearted orb dressed in white satin
embrace the shadows you cast across
Tell all the Knights lacking they cannot win
Not in a thousand years