these things on the wall who are forever in yearning
these things on the wall who will forever be sleeping
they stand for no man and they stand for no minstrel
and they are standing no longer but are hiding in mirrors
these things on the wall they have reflected my reverie
they surround you with hunger till you cry out a memory
and every waking morning they will feed on my conscience
and they follow me in subtleties till i end up going nowhere
and they wait for me in numbers and are guided by shepherds
and they dance around their campfire and lather in their alcohol
and none have ever lingered for more than a moment
and none will ever linger for the rest of this evening
and there will be no one to come follow me tomorrow
and one cannot fathom the weight of their sorrow
but soon it shall pass and soon shall be forgotten
and i will never look back over my shoulder
these things on the wall they are waiting for morning
these things on the wall they have truly been learning
and they have leapt on the trees but not on the mountains
and they are leaping over rivers and riding the oceans
these things on the wall, they are not breathing
these things on the wall, where are their shadows?
these things on the wall, where are their shadows?
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