This is my grandfather
Or rather
It's his grave
You see
there's just the thing
that he and I never meet

He died before I was born
He didn't even meet his grandson
none of the grandchildren
did he meet
tho' he had always whished for it

So this cold stone
which is covered by grass
is the only kind of grandfather
which I ever had...

Follow The Leader,
I play.
... Lost as a dog.
Wandering,
through a dense fog.
*
A girl without a voice,
born to follow...
not to rejoice.-------------------------------------------
-------------­--------------------------
But now,
He tags along.
And before long, you see...
what he sees.
Following the leader,
as he plays.---------------------------------------------
-------------­---------------------------
Only two,
and one behind.
Only when I realize,
I wasn't born to lead.
...Do I see, that he;

Is following me.

Come up north to see the great outdoors
Rolling hills
Scenes leaving you wanting more
Never mind the weather
Whether its rain or shine
Grab a pint
Sit down
And enjoy our way of life

Born and bred northern boy
But no flat cap or corduroys
Yorkshire til the day I die
I'll represent that West Yorks sign
Faithful to my northern life
Faithful to my northern rhyme
Brought up well with northern vibes
Through hard times, miners strike
Times when maggie thatcher tried
to stir up **** with lies designed
Got miners and police to fight
But don't believe that southern hype...
Those brutal battles gave us life
It redefined our future times
Redefined our future lines
Redefined the northern kind
Redefined our northern humour
Redefined our northern style
Tourists come from far and wide
to find out what the North is like
Expecting lack of cultured life
Surprised we're not uncultured swines
Rewarded with our northern minds
Our northern ways
Our northern lives

Come up north to see the great outdoors
Rolling hills
Scenes leaving you wanting more
Never mind the weather
Whether its rain or shine
Grab a pint
Sit down
Enjoy our way of life

The superstitious,
all and about
But who, that gullible?
Come forth ye,
and lend me your ears!
I tell of a superstitious being!

Born and raised she was,
with the superstitious act,
was it external?
Or internal?

She told once her superstitions,
one out of numerous times,
what doubt I was in!

The superstition dumbfound itself,
hearken her superstitions!
The pride she carries within them!

I was born out of light
Born to devour
The darkness
The hatred
With the powers within me
With each dark soul I devoured
My heart became impure
And over time
My pure soul
Shattered
By the same darkness I destroyed
And I became
The darkness
I was born to devour

Hearts fly at twilight.
Courage is born at midnight.