EXILED          Sep 85



Holy and cold the young lord
Determined to die exiled
He treads a very fine line alone
Wired ‘tween God and child
Stepping under these darkened skies
Drenched with deathly gold
One thousand thoughts a minute
His thoughts are uncontrolled

The anger and fear of living
In plain words man shall speak
But echoed in his voices
The songs are growing weak
His safeguards of his heart and mind
Will spin then pull aside
The feelings of his hopelessness
He’s always tried to hide

Waiting for muse unconsciousness
To perform these strings and sound
The signals of my agony
I swam until I drowned
Now throw a rose to the world of lights
The stage is set in dream
A murmur turned to rumour
Inside a whispered scream

Kept in a summer’s evening
With ideas and laughter gone
I’m invisible, I’ll evaporate
But the pain drags on and on
Blasted by the wind
Across the trails of sky
I never asked for Reason
Is it now too late to try?