Romneydale

Oh, pictures of Romneydale still surge through my brain
The last lady standing there with her backwards name
You could not say it forwards
You could not give it a sound
I stood there on my hiding day far outside of town
And I lift my head
Not to be fed
Into her awful ground
I’ll be scattered like bees on vines
With their own group mind
When you’re stuck in the pictures of you
You’re all wrapped up now
In your new costume
And the lights grow dim as
You fade in your tomb
The mirror is selfish it holds
Onto you
Will I ever be seen
In a light that’s true
If my body leaves, is my soul made new?
The name is backwards
You cannot give it a sound
Well, I’m over there
I got a way to get home
Again, I’m so fine
When I get both
Ends in Romneydale
I’ll be there on the rocks
The jagged rocks, counting waves
Across my animal sky
Two birds always sing
From the left
And from the right
Don’t get close to one side
Oh, when I die in the tide
Where she dwells holding onto my body
Will be my only hell