Speak to me of those ancient weathered steps,
Where you, in a solemn moment, I found.
When the arrow from the hunter's bow flew,
I shared your sky above the burning ground.
Whose flames we watched dance against the midnight,
Concocting their recipe for our disaster.
Scarring the horizon's endless revue,
Beyond the precipice of time, and after
The dawning age of perpetual slumber;
Their music of moments now only mem'ries
within.
Silenced by those perpetrators of the
Theft of your innocence - the mortal sin.
Cursed never to return yet ever to recall;
Consigned to the shadows of a tormented heart;
Decreed to wander, a lost illusion -
Born is the secret to keep us apart.
