Here I am in my room, away from the outside world,

and yet the outside world is coming in.

A song is a poem,

But a story is a dream.

Words are but words,

Whilst whistles are but whistles

Shadow, shadow, dancing through the din,

singing through a story, flying past my kin.

I drink for the hearts that I have broken,

for the lives that I have stolen,

for the tears that I have shed.

I'm starting to understand, starting to believe.

Death it came a'knocking,

death it came a'talking,

death it came a'walking,

singing out to me.

By and by the years go nigh.

Hold me tight, hold me where the wind won't blow.

Hold me tight, hold me where the shadows won't grow.

I'm not a King, but who's to say I'm not as great.

I'm not a hero, but who's to say I'm not as valiant.

I'm me, so who's to say I should be someone else.

Mock me but a little, mock me but a day.

But take away my dignity and you'll rid me of my say.

We walked together along the path together,

hand in hand,

heart in heart.

The great calluses of nature gently twined around thine hands.

So now I sit with an empty page,

a blank processed sheet.

But it doesn't matter.