Tuesday, March 15, 2011

An Old Man, In An Attic

Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing,
through the graves the wind is blowing,
freedom soon will come;
then we'll come from the shadows.






he was strong while i was meek
songs he sang from me to him i keep
days to remember, time seems to peek
around the corner, corners so deep

run, run, sway in the wind
long friends, distant kin
are flying on wings so thin
the longing, cold, lies therein

take me there?

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