The Scaramouch

Is it fear?
like that cold wind, bringing forth the unexpected chills
hearing the hart race, the rhythm and the thumping echoing in the empty skulls
hide my prayers in the little heart shaped box and lock it away
give it wings My Lord, let it fly away from me before I lay down with her
All the winds are blowing in but one direction
there she stands dressed up in the black gown, I finally see
A road painted in mirrors, a world dressed in the movie screens
Play it again they say, the voices, play that scene where the king fell
where his wings were torn apart, where he became a Scaramouch
The comedy of life!

Oh Love, i held you dear, deep inside my heart like no one else
my dream my love, the thousands of words I wrote for you
the poems, but why? Let me rest for a while.
Let me write one last poem, let me rest in her arms.
For you are but a dream, that runs farther and away
The voices laugh and scream while i sleep
Wish I was deaf and blind, wish I could sleep and hear no one
The fear running through my spine is growing wings
To the lady in the black it says, will i find rest with her?

The long comedy will come to an end, when the pen will finally rest with words
the music with the strings, the madness with dreams and the memories with the time
when the Nemeaeus finally strips his pride and embraces her
Would he rest then? Find peace among the broken bones...