Vold Book - The Attic

The lamp was off at the top of the stairs
The crystal lamp, those wooden stairs
I climbed and opened the door
Through cobwebs and the dust
Long lost

With my rod and hook
Fishing in the brooks of time
Fishing in the attic of history
I hoped to catch a glimpse
But the Earth appeared before me
As carved by a young apprentice
We are all here in reality
But there's more to the story than that
I could hear the fear behind his words
I could see everything there is to see

I took a breath and swam down
Deep into forever
To salvage what I could
Mementos in a box
Taking note of everything
Behind those age-ed locks
Searching in the corner
At the bottom of a lake
Heirloom necessity
In the depths of my aspiration

Etched into the ceiling
Of gold leaf and royal blue, but faded
Dim in the spirals, of the night's light
A cloud of dust and temples appeared before me
And the box; the box of memories

With it I returned to the surface
To catch my breath
I had found what I had come for
I had found what I had lost
My treasure, so soon to forfeit solitude
To be born, I was quite forlorn
The heirloom that I saved
In my pocket: a sonnet

Rummage through the past
And seek what you need to find
But be careful what you wish for
Take my cautionary advice
Beneath the dust is wreckage
Of a shipwreck out at sea
And the ghosts who inhabit
This realm are thirsty, and unafraid
This is not for children

I saw what there was to see
And I believe that you shall too
A world, perfectly aligned
With everything it needs
To be rectified and true
But this is not something
That is often done
Our world, unraveling
Coming undone
Deep inside an ocean
Of blackened consciousness
Deep inside the mind
Where no one cares to go
Like so many others, forbidden
And alone

Oh, the tales that History could weave
Of the mysteries, and the woes
Of the generations gone, so long ago
So long, gone

I formed my own interpretation
About what is going on, in the attic
I did my best, with what I was given
And I will not lie to you
The hunt for truth is lonely
And the truth itself, very sad
But there's still hope
We all have ample time
As long as we don't blow it
As long as we survive

Written by:
John Trautman

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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