Tunes of mendacity whispers
|
throughout the gloom, like echoes
|
of mystery or a lullaby of doom
|
|
An illusion of pleasure
|
an illusion of pain
|
Yield to the beauty and
|
soon you will waltz with the dead
|
|
Come yes you and listen to
|
my melody. Say can you do
|
another such sweet harmony
|
|
Deep in the mist you can hear him
|
softly playing his strings in order
|
to snatch your soul far away
|
Deep in the mist you reveal him
|
a naked shape of peace as he plays
|
you a song to lure you to stay
|
|
Such nimble fingers that play
|
upon the fiddle. In shadows they
|
linger like the darkest of riddles
|
|
Deep in the mist you can hear him,
|
hearken not to the sound
|
from upon his luring strings.
|
Deep in the mist you reveal him,
|
the fiddler of the lost and drowned
|
that slip you a song to sing.
|
|
-----------------
|
Waltz With The Dead
|
| Falconer |
