Tell me a sad story
And I shall write you a book
Of the past and faded Glory
About the Worlds we thought we shook
A flock of birds crowded on the dome of a mosque
Remind me of the faith I once had but now have lost
And though mine is not a story previously untold
In times of solitude I still feel cold
Without the God and the religious lessons I had been taking
Without the Glory, the Worlds I thought I had been shaking
The Lord is My Light and in Darkness He does not forsake me
Oh those lines how far back they try to take me
Tell me a tale of moonlit sorrow
And I'll tell you why I feel so hollow
All about the love I had been making
About bruised egos and wounded heroes
I'll tell you why my heart is breaking
Can you fathom what it is to know that your life is a lie ?
That the answers to questions like who ? What ? Where? And why ?
Were not answers but lies magnificently implanted
Traditions handed down, believed, repeated and chanted.
Tell me why your life does not sing with harmony
And I'll tell you why I constantly scream in agony
The seeds I have sown, the rewards I am reaping
The rewards being the tears I am desperately weeping
Watering the trees of misery whose branches grow taller by the hour
Each branch laden with fruit, each fruit increasingly sour.
"Tell it to ears willing to listen," you say. "I have already heard the story"
"Of the past and faded Glory".
"Of Faith lost, Love stolen, and Hearts broken"
"Abandon thoughts of the life you had been shaping."
"Leave this dream, return to the realm of the waking."
Only in my fantasies was the World ever shaking.