Alone in his home, a poet sits.
Lost in a world, beyond his wits.
He dreams of a time, long ago.
Where the trees grow tall, and the rivers flow.
Along this river, a girl sits.
Singing a song, forgotten mist.
A song from the heart, that can on be found.
In a tomb, where they realize, is too far down.
High on a mountain, an Amaranth sits.
In the field of red, it takes no hits.
A soldier, whose life must be a gift.
Loans his helmet to the flowers drift.
Why do Angels Cry?
Is it for the sudden demise?
Of the hearts of those who fell so far?
From a world falling so steadily apart?
YOU ARE READING
Derelict (2011)
PoetryOn August 27th, 2011, I recorded my first album, DERELICT, which has not yet been released to the public. This album was the kick starter to the studio's creation, only Bassuit Records was not its original name. Originally, BR was known as Fa...
