There was once a flat in Aberdeen ,
with many books ,
amugst the coffee cups and cigarette buts ,
and bottles of drink ,
stood out one ,
with grim piercing smile ,
held a chill up to my spine ,
a spinderling tale ,
a haunted spirit ,
a young boys mind in ruin .
Untill day dreams and sleep return ,
for in. our minds spiders find time ,
to awaken what has been broken.
For now I have awoken ,
before the birdsong that herolds the dawn ,
a paper mache mask hangs in mid air .
many many years from here ..
Behind it lies corridors of loneliness,
butterscotch candy flakes ,
the dorcedanyas mirrors lost in time and space .
where every room a closed door waits ,
and silence echoes reflections in my grandmas mirror ,
that I’m told go on forever !
Am I awake or am I dead ?
yet a feeling of being alone ,
for his loneliness is a floral bed ,
when paper face takes off his paper mache head .
A closed door an empty smile ,
a mirror that masks the truth in lies ,
For if music halls could still dance and sing ,
he would still be the toast to the king of swing .
His only companions are in his head ,
they goaded him ,
they put the thoughts into his head ,
they told him they wished he were dead .
Now in silence he hangs above my bed ,
at three in the morning,
just before dawn ,
and birdsong breaks this hopeless mourn ,
there’s a knock on my door ,
a spirit of a lady with the most beautiful smile ,
holding lilies ,
In a white long dress ,
awaits to enter her.church on time .
Before my eyes from this paper mask a man with beaming smile I saw in black bow tie ,
and morning suit ,
his buttercup candy flake .
Hand in hand they wait for the sun ,
to vanish in light and love ,
to where heavens chorus breaks .
For loneliness has been and gone ,
and fear has been replaced by morning song ,
for my bedroom is filled with the first beams of light ,
that has cast the spell of loneliness into the night .