Gun Powder & Pipe Smoke

A lone spark from distant suns

Blind my eyes and cloud my eardrums.

The song sung of midnight marauders ahead,

And told of angels fighting demons a’ bed

And together we spent hours on the horizon —

with gun powder & pipe smoke,

We cast a symphony of shots with sights on,

Shamans selling souls to townsfolk….

But in forgotten lands one final hope did remain,

The thrill of tragedy & majesty all stayed the same.

To the coast,

We skipped rocks,

To numb all of our pain.

‘Til we saw the young man turn old

And notice nothing had changed.

Today we decorate our halls,

with portraits of Lost years —

Yesterday we walked a wicked path

That filled us with fear…

Tomorrow we follow the way of the light &

burn incense from aged oak,

Of late we danced to the tune of the piper,

Clothed with ash from gun smoke