Seeking Clara

Clara, Clara come out to play And rise from your satin bed Close the door against the day And I won’t tell you’re dead Clara my sweet Clara The angels bid you wake The tyrants rise before your eyes Against a closed mistake Clara oh sweet Clara Remember why you’re dead And why you lay among the stones That gently forms your bed Clara, Clara come out to play Awake oh gentle loom And weave your meaning in the day And out from the tomb