the mindless ravels of a little used conscience
so I had set down by the riverside
casting r?ks into its greenish depths
when upon me came a plump young fellow
whose hair was gold as midday sun
he asked what the rocks meant
I told him twas only for fun
a bird beat upon the water with its trovelling wings
and he said, well I had best be offering
a deal to you so great you had only abide
by the writing signed upon the tide
until fog rose up against the moor
and the long black shadows cast out from me
the man to whom I had inquired
when a wight bessechingly spoke
its ghastly murmer
immediately I turned to run
but felt that my legs were cold as ice
he struck upon me many a time with his bloody dagger
until I was no more
which is why I tell this story
to warn all those who go out in the fog of day
but then again, maybe the travel was worth the risk
or it might not have been
since death is cold and reeling (to quote hendrix)
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