romantics

 

I was a stole away since I was born

left in this world to be alone

I’ve been walking a dusty highway

until my feet and spirit grow old

 

oh God why must I be alone

 

I’ve seen the beauty of the dying leaves

in the frank autumn yesteryear

I’ve seen the sun relent to shine

in the dead of night as Satan’s cloak veils the sky

 

why do wise man weep in their knowledge

and the romantics feel all alone

as the saints find neither respite or hope

and a wanderer is never at home

 

shattered stained glass on river’s side

tears of a maiden in a time gone by

soft mandolin playing in the evening wind

just as the time of our sorrow must end

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