As the clock sticks slowly on
I run out of things to say
and watching water in the sun
my mind begins to play
roving over the dreamscapes
of histories boldest knights
watching them fade into nothing
as they ride into the light
of day and dawn and memory
washing across the space
of sad and lonely nothingness
written all over my face
So I sink back into my dreamworlds
where life is full of fire
and let my mind go flying
to stories that do not tire
or weary, or dull
or age with time
no matter how oft
they are writ in rhyme
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