Tuesday, 5 July 2011

The Clearing.

Up in the mountians,
Where it's always dark.
There's a spot where light shines,
Through the muck.

Where hope is fond,
And thoughts are laid.
Where ghosts cower,
And wolves keep at bay.

It's a resting place,
For you and me.
Where we can sit,
Under the tree.

We can rest our tired feet and all.
We can sit,
We can sing,
We can do anything.
In this clearing,
Where we are safe,
As safe as safe can be.

All the horrid fiction characters wait,
Hoping we will come out to be their bait.
To play then kill,
So we may become their tasty meal.


We play,
And dance,
And sing,
But only in the clearing.
The clearing is safe,
So we dare not venture out.
We wont go out there,
Not at night.
We'll wait until the morning light.
When the demons cower and wait,
For the day to go,
And the night to come.
'Cause from dawn to dusk,
They catch their prey.

We dance home,
At dawn.
We yawn,
We hop into bed,
Oh sleepy head.
Before we know it,
We knocked out.
Our fun is done.
We ready to start work tomorrow.

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