Long-Long ago -
When I used to Croon -
I wrote a song about a poet -
Under the Light of the Moon
His words could paint a thousand pictures -
Of Tales of Woe - and Blood that would spill -
But now he had no coin - for ink or parchment
His words would die - without Ink for his Quill
It's time to let the Surreal Imagery have full sway - Why fight it.
The Spirits have waited for me for so long.
Moreover - Now I have found a reason - (any reason)
To pick up and plug in my Gold Top Les Paul -
So I could improvise some riffs off the cuff and have some real fun.
These are the moments when I let go so Spirit can flow through me.
The Shades have come home to roost.
(I must confess I missed it so - I was alive with her - she comforted me)
She fit me well - she felt like home -
She was a beautiful and yeah it's a drag -
Cause I ended up having to let her go to make ends meet.
To let hearts break.