Ebon Deep


Water rolls alone into the craven pool

A raven holds upon the words of wonton ripples wandering

The sun belies its rays upon the languished fool

All dreams are stones that fall from heights detached from mountains rumbling

It’s my feet that clap the coolness of this stream

Giving root to tide and weight to ebon deep

Take a stroll within the trench of a gilded past

Nostalgia ties the boots of several million soldiers stamping

A young man dies, lies in depths of abolition

In wonderment and lies behold the act of all creation

It’s my feet that clap the coolness of this stream

Giving root to tide and weight to ebon deep

My body falls and wades within this stream

Giving all my weight and body to the deep

Taste the piquant sea

In the air of caves that house me

My sole forgotten lair

Recede into this gallery of mist and memory

The craving of belief

Relief

The craving of relief

Listen to the Song

Whiston & Warmack