screaming

alone inside a cottage old as rust
as dusk was falling on the leaves
I swear I almost hear him calling
I swear it's as if he would breathe

down the mill he'd chase his sister
lawns of poppies in the morning haze
down the path an umber cottage
embraced by leaves, in shadow's way
it's where his little wife would stay
it's where his kids would play
and Lord may happiness become them
may they be forever grey


little steps don't play them music
lungs full chocking in a vicious lie
forever here, safely locked away
the best is somehow strangulation
and we drown them through the day
we drown our children in no river
'may they grow ever happy
may no harm be in their way
for I do everything for children'
the cuckoo coos his story well
a bed of stone a wife of amber
is where as king he'd lay
a king's forever cold and lonely
for glory hungry all the night and day
with heavy promise of a crown
the willow weeps to sleep His Highness
may He wither like the hay

as clocks had ticked the years by
nothing's seen but shadow play
no field of poppies can be crossed this way
an amber wife had melted through the gray
sat made of stone so somber on a chair
a wooden crooked chair
screaming under him so shrilly
noise titters on through empty rooms
vacant beds with cobweb drapes
sat cold behind the rotting walls
as spiders creep along the window
as noone ever opens up his door
you'll almost swear you feel him breathing
it's as if  he's got some words to say