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[1]
The scattered pages of a book by the sea
Held by the sand, washed by the waves
A shadow forms
Cast by a cloud
Skimming by
As eyes on the past
But the rising tide absorbs them
Effortlessly claiming
They told of one who tired of all
Singing "Praise him, praise him"
"We heed not flatterers" he cried
"By our command
Waters retreat
Show my power
Halt at my feet"
But the cause was lost, now cold winds blow
Far from the north
Overcast ranks advance
Fear of the storm
Accusing with rage and scorn
The waves surround the sinking throne
Singing "Crown him, crown him"
"Those who love
Our majesty
Show themselves"
All bent their knee
But he forced a smile even though his hopes
Lay dashed where offerings fell
Where they fell [2]
"Nothing can my peace destroy
As long as none smile" [3]
More opened ears and opened eyes
And soon they dared to laugh
See a little man [4]with his face turning red
Though his story's often told you can tell he's dead
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Check out AnaCristina's notes on:
Muse — Map Of The Problematique
The Alan Parsons Project — Since The Last Goodbye
David Gilmour — Take A Breath