Prince Amongst Men
The circle has turned seven wheels towards the dream.
by David Lacey
How many moons have passed since our awakening?
Fueled upon whiskey and rising
Sanity ravaged by mad dogs foaming and raging
Tearing at the pages of history
Spurring on the reality that exists within the eyes of a child.
The story exists
We may write it
We may read it
We live it.
Who are you my child?
The druid casting shadows onto stone?
The wicked witch who lives alone?
Surrounded by an army of flying monkeys?
Strange symbols of slavery?
What mockery of sanity is this?
That I should slip throughout looking glass worlds.
One eye is shared by two
My flesh is re arranging itself in demonic parody
The horns of Pan are breaking the skin of my scalp
Leaving me goat hoofed and parading the catacombs of
The mountain night, seeking the nymphs of delight in there sleeping
Promising to keep soft and watchful eye upon there safety
But hoping, in a devils delight that they will remember
The joy of spring and require the love I bring.
Restless within the moment
Each seeks their escape
Forever running beneath the midnight sun
Enveloping themselves in the dreams of their forefathers.
Sweet bliss is this life to kiss.
Rise, a Prince amongst Men
Rise King amongst God's