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King

King

Stones of hope… on sunlit paths
have seared in withered flames
We've climbed on rocks of brotherhood
to refuse thy brother's name

Dreams are drugs
we feed ourselves
when starved by battered times
We've staggered through our thirstiness
when battered by our minds

Invigorated autumn days
have wallowed in despair
when beaconed by stability
in dreams no longer there

The sweltered days of summer
have languished in the air
till streams of all our righteousness
have stagnantly impaired

Now we're forced to drink from empty cups
and feed from emptied dreams
We're forced to walk in quicksand,
as solid as it seems

But still I hear him singing
from somewhere long ago,
as perhaps these jangled chords
are all we'll ever know

Still I hear him dreaming
in the urgency of now
Even from this valley,
I can hear his voice

Still I see him climbing
beyond a dreamer's brow
Still I see him dying
like he never had a choice

A stone of hope… below my toe;
perhaps that's all I'll ever know
Or perhaps I'll make it more than that
like someone long ago…

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