The Beacon

Oh brother tell me please have we gone wrong
Did our trails split
And have they been for long?
My back it hurts like hell
Not really feeling well
Like under some strange spell I am
Not really sure if I can trust my sense of sight nor smell
Ahead a distant gleam
A golden sparkling stream
Oh brother tell me please is this the rigt way
Or is my spirit dreadfully astray
Your voice turning faint
Your words becoming quaint
As the shadows grow tall
Enveloping your call
Ahead a distant gleam
A golden sparkling stream
Beckon sore feet
Like moths we follow…
Like moths we follow…
Like moths we follow…
Like moths we follow…
Like moths we follow…
A golden sparkling stream
Beckon sore feet
Like moths we follow
A guiding light through the night
Beckon sore feet
Like moths we follow
Into an all engulfing omnivorous fire
Circled by shades all eager to be set alight
Chanting in frantic pulse tarnished souls aspire
To make their way into the light
Their transcended right
Shadows growing longer
The air becoming thick
Miasma growing stronger
They are torching books
It smells like flesh
But they have words
To make it stink less
All worn and tossed out like a cheap dress
All worn and tucked into the
Like moths we follow…
Like moths we follow…
Like moths we follow…
Like moths we follow…
A golden sparkling stream
Beckon sore feet
Like moths we follow
A guiding light through the night
Beckon sore feet
Like moths we follow
I’d sell you all if I could
But you’re worth… nothing