Marty Willson - The Lantern

In the same destructive way
Your broken bridge lies in the hay
You cannot spell you only lean
Where magic words direct the stream


Underneath this buckled quilt
Flowers old and precious wilt
They take you to a bluster place
And dance around your face


Safer calendars I have seen
But whoever knew what months must mean
I sail the skies and fly through the sea
No miner, cook or fool can die so weakly