Beacon for the dead
That old droopy Willow tree
the one that's on the Grey black drop
the splash of colour against tainted skies
It conjures the imagination
The life lines are long and worn
IT droops more every day
reaching for the sun
sighing in the moon
cliche lovers have stood beneath it.
men have been hung from it.
Life has lived
life has died
it will keep ticking past unbelieved and unrecognized
It dances on the winds breath
each twist and turn
emits a moan
in love and pure excitement
or means of resigned passion
Like a beacon for the dead
with its fireflies
the light to guide
like a treasure to the oddity's
living throughout this earth
It will stay to benefit the restless
the one that's on the Grey black drop
the splash of colour against tainted skies
It conjures the imagination
The life lines are long and worn
IT droops more every day
reaching for the sun
sighing in the moon
cliche lovers have stood beneath it.
men have been hung from it.
Life has lived
life has died
it will keep ticking past unbelieved and unrecognized
It dances on the winds breath
each twist and turn
emits a moan
in love and pure excitement
or means of resigned passion
Like a beacon for the dead
with its fireflies
the light to guide
like a treasure to the oddity's
living throughout this earth
It will stay to benefit the restless