And somewhere I think I heard
The chime of bells
More of them glass than metal
Those highs sounds carry so well
I think might be dreaming
I see masts in the harbor
And rusty old boxcars
A maid crowned in marigold
But ivy crawls over all
The weathered stone
The dropship stirs grass beneath it
And lonely I think of home
Lay me low
Lady Fortune
For luck has left me cold
A wayward pilot I
Fallen from the sky
To the town the locals whisper
Lays so full of ghosts
Should the enigine sputter out again
I think I shall make a new home.
I thought me writing poetry right before I fell asleep was I thing I did while high, but I've been sober for almost months now and this keeps happening. Weird.
I sort of vaguely remember this one starting out with the rhythm of Dessa's Beekeeper and then sort of trailing out somewhere else