| Ten times ten the days are numbered
|
| Passing time across the cloud of Q’Sh
|
| The mystic sat at bow and prayed
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| Listened close with sleepawake eye
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| To the whirling of the vapor
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| Thought he of the proof of his prayer
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| The final drops in rough stoneware
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| Cleansed with water cleansed of wine
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| Seeing, skrying, maybe dying
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| Maybe soon the blood knives flying
|
| Pilot daydream wasting hours
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| No port of call to cast his flowers
|
| With lust he wandered far from shore
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| Adventure to the Lands of Whore
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| Steady in her courseless
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| Navigate through shroud
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| Scroll a shuttered lantern in the
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| Hand of White Noise propeller
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| Ghoul in black that pulls the strings
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| Admires how the airship sails
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| Knife in pocket turns
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| Yonder sleepawake eye
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| It burns
|
| Something here isn’t right
|
| Stealth and search second sight
|
| Hear the giants groaning
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| Deep below propellers droning
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| Feed the lies that keep them going
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| Feel the knives feel blood flowing
|
| Three fools embark upon disaster
|
| Three plots three plans emerge as master
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| A cup of silence to drown the others
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| Draught of greed whispers opal
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| (The spying Warden watches from his Tower in Secret
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| Using an Esoteric magnifying Glass
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| But the dusty Mystic never sensed it.)
|
| Passing time across the clouds of Q’Sh
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| Thinking thoughts planning plots
|
| Sleepawake eye inaccessibly cries
|
| Raises his hand anchor falls
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| Here where we stay
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| Here in the gloom
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| Here in the gray of the sail
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| Here is the tomb of the Grail |