There, in the trees,
The air spins between the mountains
Running free.
Yet, here I am,
Away from thee,
Struggling to feel
Anything other then utterly ghastly.

See, underneath the tepid ocean's surface,
The shackled shipwrecked boats filled with dead men,
Whose only wish now is to be held in God's forgiveness.
Farewell you dead men. Welcome we new lived' ones.
Forget not what souls have come before us.
To forget, would be to feel the warmth of her first touch.

Feel the sun blazing
As her sweat mixes with your's tasting
Like peppermint steak and rose petal's tears.
Here I sit, life and soul immortal within myself,
Begging the muse as I drink whisky and ink,
Too scared to sleep for it may be my final blink.

Thousands of minutes stir in the chapel stage
As men and women pray to sift through their age.
Their memories take them to a time when they were young
Swinging flutes prance as they remember when songs were sung.

When I try to see her face in the clouds,
I do not feel natural, I do not feel proud.
She was once so close to me that I was able to touch every inch
Of her lily white skin and apricot tinted pins.  
She is away somewhere, off some place unnamed
Too hard to see or define, too hard to tame

Forget the sands that love once gave you.
They are no longer on the beach you once laid in.
Forfeit all thought of life. The action of the river,
The wind, the snow, the rain, the earthquakes, the game
Is all that matters. Let thought be thought, intangible
And but a mere fuel for the hand. This land was dug and
Beaten, shifted and formed, lifted and gifted, by ploughs
Of machine without guilt or remorse.

The hill is on fire, and inside of the flames, stands the horse.