I can almost see shimmering faery   As I recline on moss   But there isn't enough primrose   There are only wishes in   A hidden forest      I can almost see ghosts   As I shiver on icy floorboards   But Amelia is asleep in winter   There are only prayers   In a secret house      I was lost by the wayside   Amidst the groans of a tired time      There is nothing for me here   The tales of the flute by the fire   A stroll through a sombre evening   Smoke enticing from their pipes...pipes   And the honourable visions   of a pulseless mind      Death comes in an instant   If you like   But Amelia may be waking soon      When I sleep, I can't pull myself away,   Yet   But I know there are mansions out there,   Maybe on Saturn or Mars or Mercury or Luna,   Maybe on Saturn or Mars or Mercury or Luna,   ...Maybe this is a clue.      I'd never been washed ashore   Or seen the droll night before   My body vanished   I hovered in the concourse   Of the court of thousands   Of yellow asphodel   It hurts remembering the fragance of Heaven.      We lived in the rowans, avoiding mad water   Spoiling our children with tea and mushrooms   Early in the autumn as we slept by the oven   Someone sent a shape who tore the house apart.      Our bond was shattered, I was drawn away   I was caught praying in the shade.      Recently, I went back to my door   And breathed...   It was love filtered through yellow paraffin   We pushed with all our might   For you...