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

Erstwhile -


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.



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