They call it "The Altar"
Because it raises up...

Shingles drift toward waiting gutters
In their quiet quest for escape...

I think of you
When my pen stirs in the night...

While the native drums grow louder,
Pleasant memories...

If you came along
To be with me...

Without your love
To brighten my day...

While we live here as flesh and bone
And so desirous of a better state...

Come away and ride with me
That star we once wished on...

How can Love's wonders
Choose to fleet...

Take our souls and marinade
In the purest seasonings of hope...

You are hated by
A couple of lovers...

Don't ask me for anything else
Because I have nothing else to give...