Monday 3 May 2010

Standing stones

see Green Man

Standing stones


Cigarette drips from his weathered face
A withered mind in this stony place
Black crow pecks a fallen dove
Spreads his wings to the sky above

And a cold wind cuts me to my bones
And I'm left screaming
screaming at the standing stones

Rich man paws the beggars grief
Steals the soul of self belief
A tailor tinkers with my mind
For a gypsy heart and a soldier spy

Maidens gathered in a round
Silence cuts the screaming sound
Stone feels warm to my cold hand
As my feet sink deep into the land

Am g dm f c dm
F f+2 dm f c c dm
C g am

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