Through The Looking Glass

The surface of a stone
Is gray and dead
And dry as bone

For children climbing, for weather molding

No one takes time to look below
To see the beauty in the mold
The insects thriving

Turn me over, turn me over
I dont want to die alone
Dust in earth and dry (as bone)

Look me over, look me over
I'll die happy if you know
My underside is beautiful

Within the confines of my stone
My mind is warm, my heart is cold
And I've been finding my love declining

The god-shaped void is never full
Wine, song and women flood my skull
A bell is chiming, come home