Shallow dreams through a syringe kill more than children and mothers. The Crystal Angel grows in bright colours in hidden valleys where the living alive could live if it were not for the living dead.
Like a boat in the sky
Hiding from the dying
Where the people cry
White coloured cloud
Smothering the sun
Like a funeral shroud
Time has begun
To crackle the face
Of a staring child
Wrinkled lace
Running wild
Beyond the battle
Hear the angel call
Dying rattle
Where the rain can't fall
Standing over the hill
I can see you there
Stealing your fill
Of powdery air
As I listen to the crystal angel
Flower petals sing your song
The sad words of your living hell
Making the world all wrong
Future lies
Have come to stay
With a million flies
Smell of decay
Living is old
Hope is free
In desert cold
Too blind to see
A tiny child
Hold out a hand
Meek and mild
In a decadent land
Different words
Quietly lie
Nearly unheard
Asking why
Another way
Cannot be made
To let him say
He's not afraid
To listen to the crystal angel
Flower petals of your song
Wither and die so we can tell
How to make right from wrong
Poetry by Adrian Wood
Read 466 times
Written on 2012-03-20 at 01:31
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Listen to the Crystal Angel
High dream flyingLike a boat in the sky
Hiding from the dying
Where the people cry
White coloured cloud
Smothering the sun
Like a funeral shroud
Time has begun
To crackle the face
Of a staring child
Wrinkled lace
Running wild
Beyond the battle
Hear the angel call
Dying rattle
Where the rain can't fall
Standing over the hill
I can see you there
Stealing your fill
Of powdery air
As I listen to the crystal angel
Flower petals sing your song
The sad words of your living hell
Making the world all wrong
Future lies
Have come to stay
With a million flies
Smell of decay
Living is old
Hope is free
In desert cold
Too blind to see
A tiny child
Hold out a hand
Meek and mild
In a decadent land
Different words
Quietly lie
Nearly unheard
Asking why
Another way
Cannot be made
To let him say
He's not afraid
To listen to the crystal angel
Flower petals of your song
Wither and die so we can tell
How to make right from wrong
Poetry by Adrian Wood
Read 466 times
Written on 2012-03-20 at 01:31
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
