Lunetic Lake

I can not return riders
I have wandered too far
You can sweat the same road
I left the strange door ajar

How sick would it be
To fill all of life
With two promises
To live or die

There are horns waiting
Jingles, ribbons and wine
How wierd at the end
If death not be mine

Oh promised grave, delight
That musty strange smell
My odour wont be ruthless
Just my soul; stench.

I have lived long and hard
A sore in the head of time
Travel to the ancient hour
Surreal limits, hand in dime.

Through that dream we soaked
Beside the moment of utter wake
Right before we slipped into
Deaths promised lunetic lake.