The mountain lies
crumbled and worn...
Suicide is a petty thing,
Which desperate people commit...
Am I the only thing not man made?
Or for whose love has not been paid...
Blinded by light
but kept in the dark...
I pray to heaven up above
Bless thy soul eternal love...
Why do they say there's something wrong?
That I can't love her like I do...
With these hands I can play.
I can make beautiful music...
Mommy I can feel your hands,
They glide across my skin...
Stillness, akin to time immemorial,
A character of the past, a deplorable...
In the village of Heydon,
a civil parish of Norfolk, England...
Reaching through reflective pools
To save a soul from sin...
There are many things
that I want to say...