From the Hatbox
©ESR 2005

Little jewel of a lost world
Migrant of the Holy Isle
Resting on my thumb
Show me that path to time’s countryside

Emerald cobalt black
Take me back
To where my roots lie strong
Guide me to the coast, the cliff
Which my dreams cry

I run after you begging you to stop
Begging you to take me home
The familiar ache is back
At the bottom of my heart
That void that can never be filled
Until I’m running free over the isle

I fall to my knees with only my arms to comfort me
I can’t move for my legs are bleeding
I wouldn’t want to move signaling
Defeat and having to retreat
To go to a home that I don’t belong

My body was born here but not my heart and soul
I know not where I was born in my past life
But I ach to return to a place I’ve never known

People think I’m crazy…a fucking psycho
You, the reader, think so?
Little breathing emerald why do you torment my soul?
I saved your life can’t you save mine?

You came this far to spear my heart with tears
Wanting fills, me and I can almost see the isle
“HOME!” I cry, and then realize it’s just the mist

Broken spirit, broken hope to ease the fresh soul scar

Glassy one with clear stained-glass arms
Little gems go to time’s gate and wager a pass
Dart away dart back to my home

Everything has a price
Tears run down my face as I shake
Settling my emotions into nothingness
Yet that pain remains as it always does
When I cry at night…