Palace in the Sand
Palace in the Sand
Our life is just a down-payment
the soul 'tis Death's receipt.
Moments gone, where in the shade,
we went to quiet read;
The magic of forgotten days,
when we could peaceful sleep.
From here they seem quite far-away
our memories and dreams.
Where once we thought that we were safe.
When we could still believe.
No word from Heaven need to say,
how to treat a human being.
We have learned along the way-
there is no better reason.
Behind us is our shadow laid;
that which we fear the most,
the Devil's deal, the easy way,
is far too great a price;
We may await the man to take
the Thief to Paradise.
So life asked death,
that wretched why,
Why love they me though you deny?
Death said 'I'm a painful truth,
and you-a beautiful lie.'
Memories, foul ghosts, which haunt
The days within this petty place
the rainbow by a prism caught.
when we are older we confront
strangers in a forest lost,
they may one another cross
and yet not be aware;
that someone like themselves had passed,
going nowhere, going fast,
to our Palace in the Sand.
And those grainy photographs,
from one hundred years ago;
lost Children of the Sun,
that is the divine ratio.
Abstract in their function,
is a fraction of the sum,
Love is the equation,
long division yet may come;
We may not solve the riddle
yet we'll all die having learned.
How fare all the wheatfields,
where once we used to play,
and now a day is but a number,
on the calender to fall away;
This anaesthetic of familiarity
have drapes so drabs it seems it has
obscured our memory.
If there's heaven for a saint-
there's a heaven for a whore;
take a moment, pause, and think,
none need such comfort more.
Memories, foul ghosts, which haunt
The days within this petty place
the rainbow by a prism caught.
when we are older we confront
strangers in a forest lost,
that one day may another cross
and yet not be aware;
that someone like themselves had passed,
going nowhere, going fast,
to our Palace in the Sand.
Our life is just a down-payment
the soul 'tis Death's receipt.
Moments gone, where in the shade,
we went to quiet read;
The magic of forgotten days,
when we could peaceful sleep.
From here they seem quite far-away
our memories and dreams.
Where once we thought that we were safe.
When we could still believe.
No word from Heaven need to say,
how to treat a human being.
We have learned along the way-
there is no better reason.
Behind us is our shadow laid;
that which we fear the most,
the Devil's deal, the easy way,
is far too great a price;
We may await the man to take
the Thief to Paradise.
So life asked death,
that wretched why,
Why love they me though you deny?
Death said 'I'm a painful truth,
and you-a beautiful lie.'
Memories, foul ghosts, which haunt
The days within this petty place
the rainbow by a prism caught.
when we are older we confront
strangers in a forest lost,
they may one another cross
and yet not be aware;
that someone like themselves had passed,
going nowhere, going fast,
to our Palace in the Sand.
And those grainy photographs,
from one hundred years ago;
lost Children of the Sun,
that is the divine ratio.
Abstract in their function,
is a fraction of the sum,
Love is the equation,
long division yet may come;
We may not solve the riddle
yet we'll all die having learned.
How fare all the wheatfields,
where once we used to play,
and now a day is but a number,
on the calender to fall away;
This anaesthetic of familiarity
have drapes so drabs it seems it has
obscured our memory.
If there's heaven for a saint-
there's a heaven for a whore;
take a moment, pause, and think,
none need such comfort more.
Memories, foul ghosts, which haunt
The days within this petty place
the rainbow by a prism caught.
when we are older we confront
strangers in a forest lost,
that one day may another cross
and yet not be aware;
that someone like themselves had passed,
going nowhere, going fast,
to our Palace in the Sand.