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The Hills Have Eyes
Folder:
Magic and Spells The hills have eyes
The hills have eyes
And what do they see
I sing to them my questions
And they sing back to me
They sing to me the lullaby
That sweeps away the leaves
And puts the weary heart away
In everlasting sleep
They sing to me the melody
Of grasses turning green
the calling of the flowers
In every passing spring
They sing to me of others who
Have asked them many things
They tell me not to rush my time;
one day they'll sing of me
Beautiful
The melodious mood you compell has struck
harpsichord imagined with beckoning butterflies
who flutter flamboyantly their grim invitation...
bananas are the perfect food
for prostitues
That's quite a poem; must
That's quite a poem; must have been quite a dream, too.
Starward