Hello, my friends, …. its been so long
Since I last sat down to write a song,
Will these tried limbs still remember,
Or has the art set wing and fled forever?
The pen was my friend, an ally true,
The paper was my first love, few really knew
Now I see them again, a joyful reunion,
They are the same, but I a little different.
I raise the nib and carefully write,
The strange recollections of last night,
My hand trembling, my jaw clenched,
My heart weeping, my mind drenched.
‘Tis a change that was oft foreseen,
The death, the death, the death of the queen.
A clock is turned, a circle completed,
Will this world have me? Am I still needed?
My pens and papers they wish me to stay,
But, my friends, fate has its hand to play.
Ah, her cards are cast and my dice rolled,
Falling over the edge, they hit the floor.
Course! The door in my heart! Now its obvious to me,
My senses died, but the third eye still sees.
Black robed, bone white, eyes like death
The Reaper beckons me with a hand outstretched.
Ah, at last I see, my wonderful friends,
You will sing my song for me, I am not dead!
The Reaper doth lead me gently by the hand,
Because my soul he canst never command,
Its pressed deep into my pens and pages,
To sustain my being, though destiny rages.
‘Tis Victory, I have conquered the final frontier,
And He bears me no grudge, so shed no tears.
‘Tis Victory. True Victory.
Rejoice, my friends.