Elegy With A Chimneysweep Falling Inside It
Those twenty-six letters filling the blackboard
Compose the dark, compose
The illiterate summer sky & its stars as they appear
One by one, above the schoolyard.
If the soul had a written history, nothing would have happened:
A bird would still be riding the back of a horse,
And the horse would go on grazing in a field, & the gleaners,
At one with the land, the wind, the sun examining
Their faces, would go on working,
Each moment forgotten in the swipe of a scythe.
But the walls of the labyrinth have already acquired
Their rose tint from the blood of slaves
Crushed into the stone used to build them, & the windows
Of stained glass are held in place by the shriek
And sighing body of a falling chimneysweep through
The baked & blackened air. This ash was once a village,
That snowflake, time itself.
But until the day it is permitted to curl up in a doorway,
And try to sleep, the snow falling just beyond it,
There’s nothing for it to do:
The soul rests its head in its hands & stares out
From its desk at the trash-littered schoolyard,
It stays where it was left.
When the window fills with pain, the soul bears witness,
But it doesn’t write. Nor does it write home
Having no need to, having no home.
In this way, & in no other
Was the soul gradually replaced by the tens of thousands
Of things meant to represent it—
All of which proclaimed, or else lamented, its absence.
Until, in the drone of auditoriums & lecture halls, it became
No more than the scraping of a branch
Against the side of a house, no more than the wincing
Of a patient on a couch, or the pinched, nasal tenor
Of the strung-out addict’s voice,
While this sound of scratching, this tapping all night,
Enlarging the quiet instead of making a music within it,
Is just a way of joining one thing to another,
Myself to whoever it is—sitting there in the schoolroom,
Sitting there while also being led through the schoolyard
Where prisoners are exercising in the cold light—
A way of joining or trying to join one thing to another,
So that the stillness of the clouds & the sky
Opening beneath the blindfold of the prisoner, & the cop
Who leads him toward it, toward the blank
Sail of the sky at the end of the world, are bewildered
So that everything, in this moment, bewilders
Them: the odd gentleness each feels in the hand
Of the other, & how they don’t stop walking, not now
Not for anything.
poem by Larry Levis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Me & Julio Down By The Schoolyard
Words & music by paul simon
The mama pajama rolled out of bed
And she ran to the police station
When the papa found out he began to shout
And he started the investigation
Its against the law
It was against the law
What the mama saw
It was against the law
The mama looked down and spit on the ground
Everytime my name gets mentioned
The papa said oy if I get that boy
Im gonna stick him in the house of detention
Well Im on my way
I dont know where Im going
Im on my way
Im taking my time
But I dont know where
Goodbye to rosie the queen of corona
See you, me and julio
Down by the schoolyard
See you, me and julio
Down by the schoolyard
Me and julio down by the schoolyard
In a couple of days they come and take me away
But the press let the story leak
And when the radical priest
Come to get me released
We was all on the cover of newsweek
And Im on my way
I dont know where Im going
Im on my way
Im taking my time
But I dont know where
Goodbye to rosie the queen of corona
See you, me and julio
Down by the schoolyard
See you, me and julio
Down by the schoolyard
Me and julio down by the schoolyard
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home Alone Happy Without Working Computer
Home alone happy without working computer
I take my pen in hand
And slowly write these words –
Let the world click and paste and post
I am out of it for now-
I have before me an evening of any book I like
Of any page I want to write
-
Peace of Mind is one place of attention at a time-
Here weighing each word as I write
I am at home with my inner self-
I hear my own thoughts
I correct them at my own pace.
So many words and so many pages
Have been written in my life-
Now in this one
I am wholly at home
Peaceful, quiet happy
Each word a small blessing
As I write it-
This is the only poem I know
The only page I see
The only place of attention
I give myself and my soul to
At this moment.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Out In The Cold
The day fell down, the air got cold
I walked out in the street
Daydreamed for a mil e or two
Staring at my feet
Like a workin boy, out of luck
Fallin through the cracks
Night rolled in, I turned back home
A hard wind at my back
Im out in the cold (out in the cold)
Body and soul (out in the cold)
Th eres nowhere to go (out in the cold)
Im out in the cold (out in the cold)
Well I woke up
My brain was stunned
I could come around
I reached out to grab my keys
Tumbled to the ground
I thought of you
Starry eyed
I wondered where we stand
Did I just fall from your arms
Down into your hands
Im out in the cold (out in the cold)
Body and soul (out in the cold)
Theres nowhere to go (out in the cold)
Im out in the cold (out in the cold)
Im out
Standin in a doorway
Im out
Walkin around
Hands in my pockets
Im out in the cold (out in the cold)
Body and soul (out in the cold)
Theres nowhere to go (out in the cold)
Im out in the cold (o ut in the cold)
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Far Far Away
She only knows that she does not know.
Tears in her eyes blur the real and unreal.
Her world falling apart in the falling snow.
She can only feel that she can not feel
(The bitter cold invades her soul) .
She only knows that she does not know.
She feels so...stupid...she feels such...a fool.
Church bells shatter the silence peal after peal
her world falling apart in the falling snow.
Voices in her head she can’t control
memories that only pain can reveal
her world falling apart in the falling snow.
Ice steals across the pool.
Only the snow knows what it attempts to conceal.
She only knows that she does not know...
...her world falling apart in the falling snow.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Destiny
What if everything you ever wanted
throughout all your lifetime, beckons
and falls right in front of your feet
like stars fall to earth from heavens
Feels like it's, once in a lifetime moment
and you really don't want to let it slip
Your heart tells you to seize the moment
reach out and grab it, secure it
but motionless like a statue of cold stone
your mind makes you stay and hold still
It's a heart over the mind matter, a plus for the soul
so suddenly you just try to grab it and never let it go
But the moment slips out from your grasp
it escapes from your fingertips and flies away
to join the light that's already out there
and you're just left alone to chase the clouds away
But the stars keep on falling and it's not rare
just that we don't see them for what they are
So embrace your life and live it to the fullest
there's always another time for each and every test
things will happen even if you don't want them to happen
World's not messed up, it's just us and our ways that are
poem by Pamuditha Zen Anjana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Long Way Home
The other night I took the long way home
Out past the old schoolyard
Its funny how you keep it all inside
Dreams they do die hard
I closed my eyes and I could see your face
Somewhere back in time
One summer night a million miles ago
Back when you were mine
Say yes, say no, say that Im grabbing at shadows
But dont carve the words in stone
I know its late
But cant you see I was only
Taking the long way home
Sometimes its easy to get all wrapped up
In trying to be free
And all those dreams I sailed away to find
Were right in front of me
Say yes, say no, say that Im grabbing at shadows
But dont carve the words in stone
One of these days
Youre gonna see I was only
Taking the long way home
Although the letters stopped many years ago
Ill show you even time could not keep this heart
From letting go
The other night I took the long way home
Out past the old schoolyard
Its funny how you keep it all inside
Dreams they do die hard
Say yes, say no, say that Im grabbing at shadows
But dont leave me here all alone
One of these days
Youre gonna see I was only
Taking the long way home
Say yes, say no
But dont leave me here all alone
One of these days
Youre gonna see I was only
Taking the long way home
[repeat]
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Soul Comes Into The World
Where the sun rise,
Where the sea kiss the sky,
Where the dawn showing at horizon,
There a soul comes into the world.
Happily flying to the deep blue sky,
Above clouds, dreams or sun,
Joining seagulls in their flight,
Like a trip towards the stars.
Softly touching dewy grass,
Smelling beautiful flowers and their fragrance,
Hearing leaves rustling in the wind,
Admiring an amazing colors play.
A wonderful world invites you in its greatness,
Join us beautiful soul to our world,
A new body for you is waiting,
Let your freedom and come.
Soul metamorphosed into a life,
A child body innocent and fragile,
Ready to be taken into mother arms,
A magic moment happend, the miracle of life.
poem by Cristina Teodor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Schoolyard
Remember the days of the old schoolyard
We used to laugh a lot, oh don't you
Remember the days of the old schoolyard
When we had imaginings and we had
All kinds of things and we laughed
And needed love... yes, i do
Oh and i remember you
Remember the days of the old schoolyard
We used to cry a lot, oh don't you
Remember the days of the old schoolyard
When we had simplicity and we had
Warm toast for tea and we laughed
And needed love.. yes, i do
Oh and i remember you
You were my sweet love, my first sweet love
My lovey dove, my love lovey dove
No matter what place, whichever the place
I still see your face, your smiling face
In childish dreams, inside my dreams
Like king and queen, god save our dreams
N'though time may face, though time may fade
It ain't never too late, to learn about love
Learn about love
Remember the days of the old schoolyard
We used to laugh a lot, oh don't you
Remember the days of the old schoolyard
When we had imaginings and we had
All kinds of things and we laughed
And needed love... yes, i do
Oh and i remember you
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Remember The Days Of The) Old Schoolyard
Remember the days of the old schoolyard
We used to laugh a lot, oh don't you
Remember the days of the old schoolyard
When we had imaginings and we had
All kinds of things and we laughed
And needed love... yes, I do
Oh and I remember you
Remember the days of the old schoolyard
We used to cry a lot, oh don't you
Remember the days of the old schoolyard
When we had simplicity and we had
Warm toast for tea and we laughed
And needed love.. yes, I do
Oh and I remember you
You were my sweet love, my first sweet love
My lovey dove, my love lovey dove
No matter what place, whichever the place
I still see your face, your smiling face
In childish dreams, inside my dreams
Like King and Queen, God save our dreams
N'though time may face, though time may fade
It ain't never too late, to learn about love
Learn about love
Remember the days of the old schoolyard
We used to laugh a lot, oh don't you
Remember the days of the old schoolyard
When we had imaginings and we had
All kinds of things and we laughed
And needed love... yes, I do
Oh and I remember you
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Christmas Miracle
A long time ago
in a land far away,
snowflakes fluttered down from the sky
like falling stars
on houses and garden walls.
A young boy was dreaming
of a wonderful Christmas day.
He dreamed of things
that he would like to happen.
The gifts around the Christmas tree.
Gifts for his parents,
his brother and his sisters.
It was just a dream though,
a dream on Christmas Eve.
His family were poor,
barely had enough money
to keep them all fed.
As Christmas loomed
there was no money
for any special treats.
Just enough to be thankful
they all had something to eat.
The snowflakes kept falling
laying its white blanket
on the ground.
The north wind bit everything
as it yelled its mournful sound.
The cold ate into everyone,
as the family fire grew dim.
Soon everyone retired
to their beds for the night.
The little boy dreamed
what his wonderful
Christmas would be;
knowing all the while,
it was just futility.
The wind rattled
the windows and the doors
as in theirs beds they slept.
Nothing stirred within the house;
every one had gone to sleep.
In the morning, the wind had passed,
but the cold still held its chill
over every living thing.
Slowly sleepy heads awoke
as if it was a normal day.
They crept slowly from their beds
for their breakfast.
They entered the living room
they stopped in the doorway,
their mouths open in shock.
The bare room when they went to bed
was now decorated with a tree.
Beneath it were presents for everyone.
Their names were on the tags,
but from whom was blank.
Who had done this in the night,
had entered and left
without making a sound?
The children on seeing everything,
their faces beamed
from ear to ear at the sight they saw.
The little boy rubbed his sleepy eyes,
looked and looked again.
His dream had come true.
This Christmas was going to be
the best year in their lives.
The children opened their presents.
Everything they had wished for
was there except for one,
and it was for their father.
For so long he had been without a job.
The one thing they wanted for him
was to be able to work again,
but there was no job
underneath the tree.
They hadn’t noticed a letter
standing on the fireplace.
It was after all the excitement
had to begun to die down
and the fire was about to be lit
that someone noticed it.
As the letter was opened,
the Christmas miracle
began to fall into place.
The letter was an offer of a job.
The smiles on everyone’s faces
told the whole story now
and the Christmas miracle
was now complete.
No one ever discovered
what happened that day
or who it was
who performed the Christmas Miracle.
17- 18 July 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I passed by the house
I passed by the house one summer day,
Morning sunshine upon it lay;
Toward the windows that blood-red burned
Flaming my soul was turned, was turned.
There spring had found me
And captive bound me
To lissome hands and soft lips enthralling,
To smiles now stained by the teardrops falling.
Till the view from my vision dies,
To it backward I send my eyes;
All that was becomes new and near,
The forgotten grows warm and dear;
Mem'ries wander,
While this I ponder,
And from the springtime all love's sweet dreaming
Forward and back in my soul is streaming.
Joyous that time and joyous now,
Sorrow that time and .sorrow now.
Sun on meadows bedewed appears,
Soul in mem'ries of smiles and tears.
When they waking
Their bounds are breaking,
When streams their ebbing with sinking power,
The soul bears poetry's bud and flower.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Written By A Confessed Bipolar (her Name To Be Revealed Upon Her Permission)
I write because I can
I write because there are so many things to be written.
I write because I can make a painting without a brush and paints in my hand.
I write because I can capture the moment without having a camera.
I write because letters and words are the only recipe I know how to cook.
I write because I want to read what I’ve written.
I write because I’m used to speak in silence.
I write because I have a story to tell.
I write because I want to strip off my flesh and live as a pure being.
I write because I can record my “voice” without having a recorder.
I write because it’s like a cup of coffee, it keeps me awake
I write because I want to live even when I do not exist.
I write because this is my throwing stones when I’m frustrated.
6/11/09 at 4: 42 PM
I write because I can flaunt my being when I don’t have clothes to show off.
I write because this is like making an encyclopedia to a coloring book.
I write because it’s more effective than my lithium medication.
I write because I’m tired of carrying these baggages on the road.
I write because I’m tired of talking too much.
I write because it’s a healthier diversion than smoking.
I write because it’s more therapeutic than analyzing my problem.
I write because I want to paint a thousand pictures with words.
I write because I can put colors to the letters and make a rainbow of words.
I write because it’s the key combinations to my hidden vaults.
I write because my ball pen is my best friend in the darkest nights.
I write because it surprises me with what I am capable of thinking&doing. 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because I like that ideas are popping like pop corns.
I write because I can wander in the adventures of my own world.
I write because I have to cleanse my collection of memories of an old home.
I write because like a mirror you need to do a lot of reflections.
I write because I want to fight the battle of life.
I write because I wanted my little voice to be heard.
I write because I want to run from the insanities of the world.
I write because pictures don’t talk.
I write because it helps me connect the dots when I look back in my life.
I write because it brings me back to my crib of silence.
I write because it makes a buzz to other bees in my beehive.
I write because unlike my bike my destination is limitless.
I write because I want to become an inspiration without extinction 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because like strumming of the guitar, it vibrates in my soul.
I write because I love to write.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Destruction And Salvation
The buildings were collapsing all around
People screaming then falling down
Than not making a sound.
(I smiled)
The ground started opening up
And people falling in.
(I smiled)
The sea waters overflowed on the land
Bringing destruction, mud, and sand.
(I smiled)
The skies turned completely black
And the sounds of the lightning’s cracked.
(I smiled)
A man stopped me and asked:
Why do you smile when the world
around you is falling down?
I responded: I smile because the lord walks
by my side, and fills my heart and soul.
I grabbed his hands- “ and he smiled”
Let me walk with you, for I also felt him too.
We walked hand in hand through this barren land.
Other people stopped and asked the same question.
Then took our hands and joined us too.
The salvation of the world was coming true.
Faith, hope, love, was following thru.
As the people joined and held hands
The destruction began to cease.
And in peoples hearts
They found relief and peace.
When they looked there were thousands
Holding each others hands
For this was - part of gods plan.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On The Death Of Friends In Childhood
We shall not ever meet them bearded in heaven
Nor sunning themselves among the bald of hell;
If anywhere, in the deserted schoolyard at twilight,
forming a ring, perhaps, or joining hands
In games whose very names we have forgotten.
Come memory, let us seek them there in the shadows.
poem by Donald Justice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anastasia & Sandman
The brow of a horse in that moment when
The horse is drinking water so deeply from a trough
It seems to inhale the water, is holy.
I refuse to explain.
When the horse had gone the water in the trough,
All through the empty summer,
Went on reflecting clouds & stars.
The horse cropping grass in a field,
And the fly buzzing around its eyes, are more real
Than the mist in one corner of the field.
Or the angel hidden in the mist, for that matter.
Members of the Committee on the Ineffable,
Let me illustrate this with a story, & ask you all
To rest your heads on the table, cushioned,
If you wish, in your hands, &, if you want,
Comforted by a small carton of milk
To drink from, as you once did, long ago,
When there was only a curriculum of beach grass,
When the University of Flies was only a distant humming.
In Romania, after the war, Stalin confiscated
The horses that had been used to work the fields.
"You won't need horses now," Stalin said, cupping
His hand to his ear, "Can't you hear the tractors
Coming in the distance? I hear them already."
The crowd in the Callea Victoria listened closely
But no one heard anything. In the distance
There was only the faint glow of a few clouds.
And the horses were led into boxcars & emerged
As the dimly remembered meals of flesh
That fed the starving Poles
During that famine, & part of the next one--
In which even words grew thin & transparent,
Like the pale wings of ants that flew
Out of the oldest houses, & slowly
What had been real in words began to be replaced
By what was not real, by the not exactly real.
"Well, not exactly, but. . ." became the preferred
Administrative phrasing so that the man
Standing with his hat in his hands would not guess
That the phrasing of a few words had already swept
The earth from beneath his feet. "That horse I had,
He was more real than any angel,
The housefly, when I had a house, was real too,"
Is what the man thought.
Yet it wasn't more than a few months
Before the man began to wonder, talking
To himself out loud before the others,
"Was the horse real? Was the house real?"
An angel flew in and out of the high window
In the factory where the man worked, his hands
Numb with cold. He hated the window & the light
Entering the window & he hated the angel.
Because the angel could not be carved into meat
Or dumped into the ossuary & become part
Of the landfill at the edge of town,
It therefore could not acquire a soul,
And resembled in significance nothing more
Than a light summer dress when the body has gone.
The man survived because, after a while,
He shut up about it.
Stalin had a deep understanding of the kulaks,
Their sense of marginalization & belief in the land;
That is why he killed them all.
Members of the Committee on Solitude, consider
Our own impoverishment & the progress of that famine,
In which, now, it is becoming impossible
To feel anything when we contemplate the burial,
Alive, in a two-hour period, of hundreds of people.
Who were not clichés, who did not know they would be
The illegible blank of the past that lives in each
Of us, even in some guy watering his lawn
On a summer night. Consider
The death of Stalin & the slow, uninterrupted
Evolution of the horse, a species no one,
Not even Stalin, could extinguish, almost as if
What could not be altered was something
Noble in the look of its face, something
Incapable of treachery.
Then imagine, in your planning proposals,
The exact moment in the future when an angel
Might alight & crawl like a fly into the ear of a horse,
And then, eventually, into the brain of a horse,
And imagine further that the angel in the brain
Of this horse is, for the horse cropping grass
In the field, largely irrelevant, a mist in the corner
Of the field, something that disappears,
The horse thinks, when weight is passed through it,
Something that will not even carry the weight
Of its own father
On its back, the horse decides, & so demonstrates
This by swishing at a fly with its tail, by continuing
To graze as the dusk comes on & almost until it is night.
Old contrivers, daydreamers, walking chemistry sets,
Exhausted chimneysweeps of the spaces
Between words, where the Holy Ghost tastes just
Like the dust it is made of,
Let's tear up our lecture notes & throw them out
The window.
Let's do it right now before wisdom descends upon us
Like a spiderweb over a burned-out theater marquee,
Because what's the use?
I keep going to meetings where no one's there,
And contributing to the discussion;
And besides, behind the angel hissing in its mist
Is a gate that leads only into another field,
Another outcropping of stones & withered grass, where
A horse named Sandman & a horse named Anastasia
Used to stand at the fence & watch the traffic pass.
Where there were outdoor concerts once, in summer,
Under the missing & innumerable stars.
poem by Larry Levis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thou Shalt Not Kill a Certain Evening
I had grown weary of him; of his breath
And hands and features I was sick to death.
Each day I heard the same dull voice and tread;
I did not hate him: but I wished him dead.
And he must with his blank face fill my life -
Then my brain blackened; and I snatched a knife.
But ere I struck, my soul's grey deserts through
A voice cried, 'Know at least what thing you do.'
'This is a common man: knowest thou, O soul,
What this thing is? somewhere where seasons roll
There is some living thing for whom this man
Is as seven heavens girt into a span,
For some one soul you take the world away -
Now know you well your deed and purpose. Slay!'
Then I cast down the knife upon the ground
And saw that mean man for one moment crowned.
I turned and laughed: for there was no one by -
The man that I had sought to slay was I.
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Who Says Words With My Mouth?
All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.
This poetry, I never know what I'm going to say.
I don't plan it.
When I'm outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.
Whoever Brought Me Here
All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home.
This poetry. I never know what I'm going to say.
I don't plan it.
When I'm outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.
Its Ok
Its ok
Love is only meant for some
Im the rock
The shoulder you can cry on
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
Ill play it straight
While you laugh and drink and party all night long
Ill designate myself
To be the driver who takes you home
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
You can be pretty and tragic
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
You can be beautiful and fabulous
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
I cant reach the pain you feel
But Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
If you can hold on
Lose your fear
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
Falling down
Falling down
Where is your saint
To let you know youre not alone
To bring you peace
Help me be your friend your confidante
And keep the walls from falling down
Keep the walls from falling down
Keep the walls from falling down
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The World Is Stone
Stone, the world is stone
Its no trick of the light
Its hard on the soul
Stone, the world is stone
Cold to the touch
And hard on the soul
In the grey of the streets
In the neon unknown
I look for a sign
That Im not on my own
That Im not here alone
As the still of the night
And the choke of the air
And the winners delight
And the losers despair
Closes in left and right
I would love not to care
Stone, the world is stone
From a faraway look
Without stars in my eyes
Through the halls of the rich
And the flats of the poor
Wherever I go
Theres no warmth anymore
Theres no love anymore
So I turn on my heels
Im declining the fall
Ive had all I can take
With my back to the wall
Tell the world Im not in
Im not taking the call
Stone, the world is stone
But I saw it once
With the stars in my eyes
When each colour rang out
In a thunderous chrome
Its no trick of the light
I cant find my way home
In a world of stone
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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