He never had a second look they never let him off the hook.
Tonight's the night, it's him for none other
tonight was the night, his finest hour.
/oh please, who would believe that?
Into the darkness he scurried
Past whispers and shadows and trees
Into the night he ran,
Ignoring the chill on the breeze.
/Now and then and past and beyond. Where the bloody,
has it all gone?
The sun's been gone for so damned long.
The night's so very fresh.
Time and tide and con of man
All of them
They mesh
/as the luminscence ascends the trees.
Strange are the sounds of night. Stranger yet, the silence of his plight
The voices carry off in the wind.
A rustle of leaves, the shiver
of air
Resounding everywhere.
Shapes and sounds
Making the rounds, throughout their forest lairs.
The voices beckoning within himself.
The voices from days he could (still) hear.
They scream and screech and shout and holler
Stifled by tight-roped fear.
"Who's there?" he cried, into the night
Nary a response to be heard.
"Couldn't be," he thought, drowning the chorus,
"Probably just a bird."
"Oh really?" they mused
from deep inside the trees.
Tonight my dear, remember your fear
It'll bring you To your knees.
/Silently he's sitting, upon a ridge.
Silently he sat, gaze fixed on the starless(sky)
silently he'll sit.
Why why why why what do you seek from me?
Why who what when why, pray tell, me?