Vold Book - Starry Night
An imaginary village, in an imaginary mind
By an imaginary hand, from imaginary lands
Costumes, and spectacle
The subtleties of a grand ball
In an adjacent hall, the boy knelt down
Pretending, hidden and invisible
He mended the doll of his sister
And withdrew from nomination
Floating in the limelight
Of simple overtones
And childhood fantasy
Counting the buttons
Of innocent youth
Prisoners were calling, deep inside his mind
Various voices, the baker and the priest
He silenced them as best he could
But the beast in the corner
Underneath a coat of arms
Saw to it that phantoms should persist
Those red eyes, that only he could see
Frozen, and penetrating
Steeped in depravity
The boy wiped tears from his eyes
And focusing on supplies
Stitched a ragged cross
Into the chest
Where tufts of cotton broke free
Stitching patiently, of necessity
Nervous and buried within
Trapped behind his eyes
His hands, moving autonomously
In a contant itch, in a rocking pose
Murmuring, muttering with sound
From around the corner, a woman appeared
Those eyes faded, that she did not see
Come along, she said to me
Come into the night
Let us go to the river, where everything's alright
I appeared within myself, noticing dim and translucent hands
Scarred, and justified without demands
Soft, and small
Alright, said the boy
That night the river was very cold
Stars shone brightly, in a rapturous hold
Of magic, white light; barely visible
We disrobed and bathed
Shivering, but not her tender skin
With precision she took hold
Knowing exactly where to begin
I felt her showing me tastes, closing my eyes
Snaking, lifting, our withering embrace
Turning to dust in the stream, picking me up
Again and again; so lost, clinging to the currents
Beneath my knees; clipping my wings, deeply
In the thoroughfare: where golden vines
Wrapped around the eye inside my mind
Tearing at the worth, of my being
In a nightmare, tearing apart my wings
Like a frightened boy; scared of becoming
Something more
The moon hung overhead, and summoned the dead
To the river, winding and carving its way
Through his heart, soils and silt
Basking in the guilt, of the ages
That's when I learned that evil lived here, and that the beast was in control
I felt my morays disintegrate and my boundaries evaporate
All that was left was the soul of a man, resting, in the palm of her hand
She smiled and said to me, "Delightful," revealing her inner thoughts
A furnace alive, I simply could not take it anymore
So I grabbed a rock and bashed her skull
Again
Again
She fell like a landslide gushing blood
Floating down the riverbank, in pieces
To the waterfall; where she surely sank
Drowning half-aware, like a doll
I wiped the blood from my little hands, imaginary hands
And gathered my things back on the land, imaginary lands
Wrestling with my inner self
Newly born: a man
Tiny, at a grand ball
And taking notes, for you
Written by:
John Trautman
Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
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