Gotten in blood, founded by death, forbidden
A sweet guilt trip down memory lane
The thoughts assault me, unbidden,
Causing much grief and pain
They sing their songs with harps of gold
Silver tongues and crimson robes
Singing songs of the days of old
While they of the curious mind probes
"Sing me a song," I said to them
"Compose it here and now. Let me
Listen to your song and I'll give you a gem.
Just to prove that you can see the real me."
They nodded to me, and picked up the harps
Hummed and strummed till finally
They sang me a song with those golden harps
They saw me, finally
Now I can rest in peace,
They've given me my song
But no one knows the final piece
Of the song that wasn't wrong
Buried with me, buried with them
My story goes untold.
A monument to a precious gem
Never to ever unfold.
