Consecrated Grounds
Clinging on to silence
When there’s nothing to behold
In the mirror of this earthly
Visage growing old
Beneath what now just lingers
In this quieting despair
There lies an open graveyard
Begging for your care
The flowers here are wilting
All the children turn away
And in that I am haunted
There is no such thing as play
My voice sings of confusion
When I ask for your embrace
Instead I speak of lacking
And why it’s you that I should blame
Now alone beside the mirror
This old man is close to truth
And as he fades into the nightmares
He recalls what stole his youth
Stalking through the darkness
A passenger of pain
“It is I that haunts this graveyard”
And then he spoke his name
Awake and overflowing
With the senses I thought gone
The old man in the mirror
Is now a child with a song
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