Andrew's Songbook

[RollinsCat]

Hi no Tama.  Won Jack Lantern from Lord Fortrand in Octlar.

Once, years before even the children of Voltrex in the audience were laid for the first time into tehir mother's arms, there was a bog, a little bog, skirting the shores near a port city far, far away.

The legends spoke of a chest fully as long as a man and twice as wide full of stolen diamonds and emeralds, deep in the center of this little bog. A clever raider had supposedly stolen these gems from the dark elves of the Deep and buried them in the bog while under pursuit so he could get them when the commotion died down.

But that unnamed pirate of old never returned for them; at least, he was never seen or heard from again.

What that pirate didn't know?  That everyone avoided this place.  The bog trembled, shook as a sleeping man does when he's having a nightmare; little tremors, hither and thither.  The ground would feel solid as wood, make a confident tap-tap under one's boots, until it suddenly would give way, dousing one into the stinking muck, and sucking at boots, feet and legs as if it didn't want to let go.  And the bog was haunted -- haunted by the spirits of every man, woman, and child that had ever been sucked beneath the slimy surface.

Time passed, and by and by locals started speaking of a globe of light moving over the marshy ground and hearing a thready voice singing on bleak, dark nights in the haunted bog.  They spoke of a song of treasure untold...

"Come see my treasure, come over here...buried 'neath the quaking earth...glimmer, glitter, sparkle, shimmer...free me and it's yours...

Search beneath, down, under...deep they came and deep you plunder...rich beyond your wildest dreams...free me and it's yours..."

Well.  Word of this song got around town, spreading like only a rumor -- or a bad rash -- can.  Most sane folks continued to avoid the area.  Fear of spirits and the evil they can say and do is strong, and for good reason.

But.  There is always a but, isn't there? But, there were two men who were skeptical, desperate, and poor enough to start planning liberation of the captive gems.  They acquired shovels, rope, gaffes, prying bars, staves, planks, and lanterns and one chill winter night, under the black blanket of a new moon, they set off to lay claim to the reputed treasure.

It was not a long trek, but the walk left them numb with cold.  

The battered sand road that ran parallel to the beach seemed normal enough; but as they drew closer to the bog, icy tendrils of wind like cold little breaths came at them, whispering down their cloaks and around their gloves.

After quite a time, lugging all their equipment, they reached the marshy area.  The two men immediately began to lay a path to the center with the planks.  When they reached the center of the bog, and only then, did they hear the singing.

"Seekers, brave, here you are, but only one will leave...riches great but greed is greater, one sets to deceive...who will win the prize, my seekers?  Who will set me free?...And who will bleed in this wet grave, to join the rotting debris?"

Nervous though they were, still the desire for wealth without work won the day.  Giving each other suspicious glances, they set to probing for the chest.  The moment the gaffe dipped into the slime and muck, the song continued, and from behind them there was light...

"Who wishes to see someone dying, who wishes to sees someone dead?  Who has even now, a heavy wood bough, to crack over someone's ripe head?"

The men stopped, turned, and stared at each other.  One had the wooden-handled gaffe; the other held a wooden stave.  Behind them, a circular light about the size of a fist was darting back and forth.

But the men didn't seem to notice.

The men held up their weapons, eyes locked together.  Again the thin, reedy whisper...

"Only one can live, but two want riches...who will strike first?  Whose weapon twitches?"

The man holding the staff swung, but the gaffe hit first - dead center in the other man's chest.  The man with the staff flew back into the mire, sinking ever so slowly as the light flared and throbbed.

The man with the gaffe turned and sunk deep in the center, sparing not a moment to look at his still-breathing former friend dying by degrees behind him.  His eyes gleamed, and still he did not seem to notice the light.  His gaffe hooked something -- he tugged, eager, leaning forward to hook whatever heavy object he'd found.

But the object was heavy -- and in his blind desire, he fell into the muck.  Struggling to hold the gaffe and his treasure, kicking and reaching for something solid, his panicked eyes finally alighted on the aura of light --

"Take hold now, grab on, and preserved you'll be -- reach for the light, reach for me..."

He thrust up his hand, but as his fingers touched the nimbus, he screamed, for the light now seemed to suck on his fingertips with a vampiric force.  His eyes sunk back, his teeth rattled, and slowly the light shifted color -- the white lifting, dissipating, while a sickly yellow crept in.

And as the white light faded into the coal dark sky, one last song was heard...

"You preserved and I am free and bound no more because of greed...you now guard a treasure clutch of gems and baubles you may not touch..."

And the last sound heard was of soft, mad laughter drifting on the swamp breezes.

The light remained, frantically dashing about, here, there, stopping to buzz over the dead companion, then returning to the single arm still reaching out of the bog water, fingers reaching skyward in a supplicating plea....

But the bodies sank, both of them.  And children in the town of my birth know to stay away from that bog...and to keep avarice and greed from their hearts, so not to be seduced by the song of evil.

[RollinsCat]

In honor of Bear Island and many brave souls. Nov.

This day beneath the rolling hills
Before my light-seared eyes
The ground awash in bloody kills
We march forth to the prize

Hold your ground give not an inch
Though lightning tear around thee
Hold your ground, do not flinch
Before us they will flee

Pressing on through fur and claw
Bearing wounds aplenty
We battle on with firm-set jaw
Five and ten and twenty

Hold your ground give not an inch
Though lightning tear around thee
Hold your ground, do not flinch
Before us they will flee

Bugbears fierce with gleaming tooth
Gather by their altar
Holding forth our hard-won truth
Still we do not falter

Hold your ground give not an inch
Though lightning tear around thee
Hold your ground, do not flinch
Before us they will flee

We drag our dead and battle out
Victory at hand
Ahead a shout and falls our scout
We make our final stand

Hold your ground give not an inch
Though lightning tear around thee
Hold your ground, do not flinch
Before us they will flee

One last battle by the door
My companions falling round me
My clothing soaked in battle gore
With battle-horn sounding east

Flee your ground, get out alive
Before they gather more
Flee your ground, get out alive
So we'll live to the shore!

[RollinsCat]

Work in progress.  For Jaelle.

Night sky, bright sky, sunlight, wind and rain,
Piano deep and harp-strings sweet to play away the pain,
   Two winding round in notes so clear
   Lost in what we both find dear
Singing we need not be lonely again, my dear, we need not be lonely again

Whole notes, soul notes, dancing into night
Lives of secrets, bound in song, confessions doth invite
    Here is truth before our ears
    Letting trust belay our fears
Singing there is peace here beside the fire's light, my friend, there is peace here beside the fire's light

Heart of storms, heart of love, both seen through eyes anew
I've wandered through this world alone and never had a clue
   Let me help you when the darkness patters
   Let me help you when your life's in tatters
Singing I will always be here for you, dear friend, I will always be here for you

[RollinsCat]

Work in progress.  Lullaby for A.  Added verse.

Sleep my angel sleep in peace
Quiet through the night
Sleep my angel wrapped in fleece
Quiet through the night
Even now night is resting
Snug inside your cradle nesting
Long way off is dawn's bright cresting
Quiet through the night

Sleep my storm child
Quiet through the night
Sleep my storm child
Quiet through the night
Lightning flash on window pane
To the tune of tapping rain
Windsong's thrum your sweet refrain
Quiet through the night

[RollinsCat]

For Zira.

Twas in a summer's afternoon
Rolling onto eve
We met by fountain's gentle whispers
My heart upon my sleeve

Come, you said, with sparkling eyes,
Seeing me naive
I leapt to sing the world with you
And so we made to leave

You spoke of wonders across the seas
Passionately I did believe
Forest, lake and mountains grand -
Your words did not deceive

But in our time of roses, dear
My heart began to grieve
Your devotion crystal clear
To Toran-loving reave

Yet now mine eyes and heart take wing
When caring round us weave
Knowing that I can know you
What our friendship can achieve

[RollinsCat]

Song of the Phoenix for Leringard Arms.  Fundraiser.

Ash blow cross fire-scarred floor
Wood glow orange around the door
Blackened drawn like curtains fore
Rise to Arms again

Ghosts move past in shambling gate
Looking, picking, box and crate
Blackened books and burnt estate
Rise to Arms again

Timber bathed cinders warm
Memories echo wood and form
Words spoke of lives and love transform
Rise to Arms again

When sun brings gentle touch to cheek
We together rebuild, unique
The living shell comfort bespeak
Rise to Arms again

So lay a hand, drop a True
Lift a plank or join the crew
Donate body, coin or brew!
Let's Rise the Arms again!

[RollinsCat]

Bad day.  Slept in.  Write Mother for Randy Stuffigans.

Whisper round the madness
Doors and windows staring hard
One hundred arms to grab and pull
Plucking shard by shard

Whisper round the halls at midnight
Asking WHO IS THERE
Little feet tap little beat
But the house holds empty air

Whisper down the alley-way
Laughing tears to calm me
I'm alright yes I'm alright
Dying by degree

Games are for children then
And how does one reassemble?
Puzzles meant for little hands
Bleeding edges tremble

Whisper of a man who feels
Here's a song of falling
An image trapped in broken mirror
One-hundred shards come calling

[RollinsCat]

Woke up hung-over.  Wonder why I write so well when I'm sick.

Another night of wine and song and woman warm and willing
Another day of marching on to sing about the killing
Another evening drinking spent to ward away the chilling
And what more is there, but this I fear, to life and all its living

I've had enough of silken touch and words whispered so sweetly
I've had enough of sultry glance and finger crooked discreetly
I've had enough of wine and ale and losing myself completely
There is more than this, dying on a kiss, to life and all its living

I will seek out words of wisdom and I will search for mirth
I will walk a different path and sing upon the earth
I will listen to my Muse and make good on my worth
There'll be more than quips and wine-stained lips, to life and all its living

[RollinsCat]

Sung for the children at the Tower.  Ilsare help us all.

There is gold in warm and caring hands
A home in arms embracing
Silks and velvets in giving hearts
Who knows what we are facing

This day you don't suffer as only one
This blanket of pain is shared
We all have lost and understand
Being alone, and hurt, and scared

Take my hand, sing with me
Or hold the one beside you
Today we face the world as one
Together we will see this through


Sung for evacuees.  First time singing in a week.  Throat hurts.  Need honey tea.

Life and pain lay twain in twain and joy's a fleeting mistress
At mercy we to air and sea and nature's fickle caresses
But with resolve we march to solve the problems surge before us
We'll take what's thrown and through it shone and turn it into progress

This is our city
This is our home
This is where our songs we blend
This is our city
This is our home
Together family, together friends

[RollinsCat]

For Elaine.  May her father never find out.

Dance well my sweet gazelle
Legato legs a spinning
Dance long upon my song
For night's only beginning

I play my passion like a bow
Aiming for your heartstrings
My violin and I begin
To play your feet to wings

Sheen, a sweat, you're dancing yet
Shedding that which binds you
Past laments and good intents
Melt with skin's debut

Melody flows from bow to hands
Bodies sing staccato
Fast colle' and son file'
Soaring to vibrato

Twilight dawn I sneak you gone
To those who guard your honor
Return to wait, anticipate
When light's dusk brings an encore

[RollinsCat]

Ballard of the Pies.  For Zira's contest.


What bubbles here upon the sill, steaming gently in the chill?
Rubarb pie to tartly thrill and promise rumbling stomachs fill.

Yet to my nose does waft to tease, nestled twixt a doughy breeze,
And with a candied wink appease, golden apple topped with cheese.

But wait!  Like summer orchard spectre, comes the smell of godly nectar,
Drifting on a sugared zephyr toward peach-filled pie I change my vector.

Still en route to peachy bliss I stop dead in tracks -- what smell is this?
A cloud of sensual blueberry kiss and I forget that peach exists!

Left of peach and to my right, latticed cherries sweetly delight,
A taste the heavens to excite, under blanket doughy white.

Each pie exerts a siren's call and I am pulled from stall to stall,
To each honeyed smell I am in thrall; I confess I have to try them all!

[RollinsCat]

Candle glow forgives you and I'm bored to tears again
Waiting for the waves to hit the shore
Every time I land here after self recrimination
Wishing I was a hero but drowning in mundane

You smiled and sat beside me
We shared a drink or three
Each hiding to a degree

It didn't take much, no, it didn't take much
To convince me
Another pretty face
To convince me...

You said you were from money, I believed you were
It's okay, I lied too
Just to spend a night with you

But here we are in morning light
Without a truth to bind us
Empty bottles and ashes on the floor
And nothing more than this to hold us every single night

[RollinsCat]

A ray of hope.  A Golden Elf.  A hand to hold.  And I'm out of booze.

Wake and rise, stretch and pray
We've lived to see another day
And while we mourn we still can say:
We are here, here we are, here we stay.

Backs to work, children play
Livestock graze and chickens stray
Manure and sweat our new bouquet
We are here, here we are, here we stay.

Hitch the cart and haul away the city's disarray
Like a courted maiden she reveals more everyday
Peeling off the sea's debris the better to display
We are here, here we are, here we stay

Bunched together we in a storm induced soiree
Our city holding tightly to the hopes that guide our way
But yesterday, tomorrow, and certainly today:
We are here.  Here we are.  Here we stay.

[RollinsCat]

Elaine brought me some dwarven firewater.  And I wrote a poem to Zari.

I really won't ever learn, will I?

Will you hold my hands and dance
Where day and night don't follow
Will you spin on song-light heart
Where excess words ring hollow?

Will you walk with me a while
Into my darker places
Will you lead me past your veils
Into your sunlight spaces?

This isn't high prose, Zari dear
It's meant only to amuse you
But an invitation, that it is -
One I hope that you'll pursue

[RollinsCat]

Sung at the Scamp's Tent.  Nothing says party like a Shadonite.

Some new lyrics, two lines from a dwarf in a bar.  Dwarves...do that?  The logistics raise the hair on my arms.  Good line, though.

Give me please an honest tease
A wanton maid of pleasure
Highborn ladies simp and fawn
But their love's bought with treasure

Give me dancers, gypsies, maids of night who don't need True to love them
I'll not be swayed by moneyed ways and cold hearts born to condemn

Give me swaying hips and lush red lips and eyes that sparkle knowing
At midnights bliss it's not a goodbye kiss that I want them to be blowing

A choice between a maiden green
Or a woman full and busty?
No choice at all, I'll take my call
From those whose eyes are lusty!

Give me dancers, gypsies, maids of night whose bodies are their own
A dowry chest and wedding nest leaves me no room to roam

Whatever sot said a lady's not if she enjoys freely sharing
Has put a hex on the fairer sex who is every bit as daring

Virgin maids for marrying
Want feathered beds of roses
But a dancing girl can get her fill
On grassy knolls of posies

Give me dancers, gypsies, maids of night, at love they're simply better
On nature's bed we'll play at wed with no rings to form a fetter

Ladies fair can take their share of those who wish a wedding
But I'll keep time with ladies fine who prefer passionate bedding

[RollinsCat]

Grandfather's story, for the upcoming contest.  Work in progress.

Are the gloves cheating?  I must remember to ask.


We have a story to tell of love, Alexander and I.  This tale is from not so long ago.  Sixty-six years to be exact.  This story is about love, but it is also about the Goddess of Love and Inspiration.  You may think of Her as a warm and fuzzy thing that She rules the heart.  But perhaps also you know Her, and the way She touches those She resides in.  As a dear friend has told me, Ilsare is not an easy Goddess to follow.  To worship, yes, and to love, yes.  But to follow Her means to follow your own heart and whatever lurks inside it.

The story begins, not with a woman, but a man.  He was a tall man for a Huangjin native, with skin dark from a life outdoors for he earned his living shaping clay.  Most would call him an artisan, but he would not have agreed.  He was above all practical.  Yes, he made vessels of clay that were outstandingly crafted, but this was a living, a trade, not an indulgent expression.  Yes, he could draw, but only to sketch the design of the pots and dishes and urns that earned him his keep.  Yes, he could paint, but this was to avoid having to pay someone to make fliers and signs.

There were many who told him he was touched by Ilsare, but he scoffed.  An emptyheaded elven Goddess who ruled the heart?  He could imagine nothing less like him, and nothing he was less likely to worship.  Yes, she might inspire him, as they said.  But inspiration was a far cry from devotion and love was a distraction.  

As I said; practical.

One evening as dusk seeped color from the clay he shaped, the man carefully wrapped unused clay in wet cloth and packed it away.  He walked from the wheel in his rear yard toward his modest home.  And stopped short, foot hovering over the first step, for he heard music, beautiful music, yearning...a single violin with a voice as sweet as a nightingale, calling into the darkness for someone to understand.

(Andrew here; write mother for score)

The music shook him and he spun around, trying to see where it came from, but the evening wind took the notes and bounced them off the homes and flat spaces along the road so they came from everywhere, and nowhere.

He went inside but remained unsettled.  He decided to paint, intent on a new flier for his work, but he could not stop humming the tune the wind had brought him.

And when his rough hands dipped brush into pot, and came to the easel he faced, it was not pottery that they painted.  It was a woman, with red streaks in her dark hair, eyes both brown and green, and dark skin made darker by the sun.  Her face was not that of a classic beauty, with her too-strong chin and thick eyebrows.  But to his eyes, she was beautiful, as enticing and aloof as the tune he murmured to himself.  He shook himself and tried to start on his flier.  But the music played endlessly in his head, urging him when he stopped, and so he painted her until she was done.

Weeks passed, and the song did not return.  His equilibrium recovered; he tucked away the woman's face and painted his flier, and shaped his clay.  His friends laughed at his story, telling him he needed to take a wife and soon, and that Ilsare was no longer touching him but actively tapping him on the shoulder, but he waved his hand and ignored them.

Until the very next night when the music came again, riding a gentle rain and singing with the patter of the drops.

(Alex)

He was undone, pacing and fighting the urge to draw her.  He could see her, in the music!  Her face, brows drawn together in concentration, full lips tracing a smile of longing as she played, the way the candlelight highlighted her cheek and long-lashed eyes...

When finally he succumbed, he attacked the canvas with a passion that frightened him, until, drained, he looked at the woman's face and wondered what madness propelled his hands and whether he could stand against it any longer.

(Alex)

He made up his mind.  The music obliged, calling to him in the clear dusk air of the next evening.  He tucked up the second picture into oiled cloth and followed the song, tracking it as it pulled on his heart, and found himself gazing on a very small cottage tucked into the rear yard of an old cart shop only a few blocks from his home.  Among broken wheels and planks of wood warped by rain and sun the music echoed, now light and airy, now deeper and darker, as if it were the only sound in the universe.

He stood, transfixed with desire -- and fear.  But finally, with shaky words of courage to himself, he stepped to the door and knocked.

That moment etched itself into his mind forever, that single moment when she answered.  Her brow and cheeks, touched by the tallows in the candelabra; her lips, full, the color of a new rose; her eyes, brown and green flecked.  She stepped back, shocked, trembling.  

"You..." was all she said.  And he saw then that she looked at him as if she knew him, although he was sure he'd never seen her on the street.  She picked up from a table her delicate violin, oak with rosewood inlays, and played.   Standing that close, the song pierced through his soul.  In that moment he knew why.  The song she played was his, somehow, and by the look of sudden desperation in her eyes he know it had been driving her to the edge of her sanity as her face had been him.  He slipped the cloth from his painting and held it up as the music faded.  

(Get painting from mother.  Portal near Hlint.)

She stared into his eyes, seeing him and so much more; he looked back, with an understanding that caused his heart to ache from the weight of emotion.  And he knew that in the moment when she'd opened the door, he had opened one as well, giving his heart to the elven Goddess whose caress he had fought so long and the woman She led him to.

That man was my grandfather, Liang Reid.  He and grandmother Rose remained married for fifty-two years, and died within three hours of each other.

[RollinsCat]

A single grave of letters deep
Chiseled soldier rows, marching in eternal sleep
Forming simple lines of prose

Standing still in valley low
Though worn from rains, cracked through by snow,
And bearing weathered stains

Weight of years and emotions spent
Etched from stone and joyful love, aching tears and merriment,
Forever read to those above:

A moment flares and then it's gone
Each ache and joy a shining bead, strung from birth to final dawn
And marking moments of our need

The valley in my heart holds this
Wisdom earned by pain, shaping daily my abyss
A simple life's refrain

[RollinsCat]

For the children.  Sometimes the simplest songs are best.

Gather, listen, children dear
I'll sing to you a story of fear
A little boy and a little girl
Lost their home in a storm's fierce whirl

The storm it hit with no warning gave
And brought with it a killing wave
The children ran, their parents too
Ran as if death itself pursue

And came to rest on farmer's field
Alone and hurt, wounds needing healed
But they remembered well their parent's word
And, finding others, they made a herd

This little girl and little boy
Were left with nothing, not a single toy
But they pulled together others scared
Gathered close, the children shared

The dread, the pain, the loss and tears
Confusion in the face of fears
Of losing more, who'll care for me?
Where is daddy, where is mommy?

Held together frightened all
Huddled, shaking, crying, small
But close they stayed and found a glow
In friends that would not let them go

Men and women came to assist
Fed them, warmed them, wounds they kissed
Families reuninted, some
And others found new loving home

And this our promise made anew
We will all take care of you
You have each other and hands that love
And the watchful eyes of the Gods above

[RollinsCat]

Orc killing tune taught and translated to me by Grolf Bladeswarper and half a keg.  I sacrifice my liver in the name of my art!

Urrzhazht, urrzhazht, urrzhazht rurzh
Lazhzi' waurhk' kur ponururto kazkath!
Urrzhazht, urrzhazht, ur'h ponaztath az rhnurzh
Kur 'azhgathk k'al k'aah waazkath!

Urrzhazht, pohurk'ahth, urrzhazht kur
Urrzia lurha arkur k'a pohaazzi'!
Urrzhazht pohurk'ahth, ponururt zhann wanurzh
Kann hat zha thkazar k'a poaazzi'!

Urrzhazht zh'ana k'a pourtaath thkazzig
Ziazhgark rhazolark wahurl k'aah pourra!
Urrzhazht rhhaththark k'a azkkazzig
'rkan zha haazzi' k'aah k'hurra!

Urrzhazht, pohurk'ahth, zi'aawa az'aazt
K'a poazkkna tharkth ur'h ponururt!
Urrzhazht, pohurk'ahth, zinaazga 'ath 'aazt
Azrt naazga ak ar k'a l't!


Onward, onward, onward now
March forth to bloody gates!
Onward, onward, our blades a plow
To harvest them their fates!

Onward, brothers, onward go
Once more into the breach!
Onward brothers, blood will flow
Till red we stain the beach!

Onward while the bodies stack
Carving payment from their bone!
Onward pressing the attack
Until we reach their throne!

Onward, brothers, chief ahead
The battle sings our blood!
Onward, brothers, cleave his head
And leave it in the mud!

[RollinsCat]

Brine to cover brittle skin and salted cross the shore
Men and woman standing in an uneasy rapport
Their fate set hard and jaws and teeth in face of what before
A task unfinished by the furies churn the ocean more

Tempest in a teacup
What’s a wave to me?
Standing on the edge of death and waving merrily
Chaos is a mantle
A gaily waving stole
I’ll chorus with the clouds and rain under which I stroll

Ten and nine were all that stood storm and city in between
Strangers, friends and lovers mixed in fear inspired mein
Rang gaily as with festival the music started in
Singing back rebellion on the snarling howling wind

Tempest in a teacup
What’s a wave to me?
Playing to a tsunami’s face and then go home for tea
Chaos is a mantle
A gaily waving stole
I’ll fiddle down the waves and then I’ll sing the waters whole

A skeleton of lives fled east awaiting epitaph
And each life left to spite the storm set foot upon the path
Soaked inside the typhoon gale of Lady Doom’s own bath
The ten and nine began to fight against the tempest wrath

Tempest in a teacup
What’s a wave to me?
Cleave the waves to pieces under magic revery
Chaos is a mantle
A gaily waving stole
Heartsong in the shrieking winds and give up all control

Bluster screaming bloody rage tears words from waiting ear
A gypsy lady with her bells sings quiet in a sphere
And concentrate to form a wedge to cleave the waters clear
At once together wills in synch with faces set austere

Tempest in a teacup
What’s a wave to me?
Minds as one and braces done by those with sturdy feet
Chaos is a mantle
A gaily waving stole
Music in the magic holding fast to simple goal

A mountain range of water march across the churning sea
The motley crew stood fast although shaking at the knee
One heartbeat passed too quickly of an odd quiet reprieve
And the wave crashed down upon them as a thousand ton banshee

Tempest in a teacup
What’s a wave to me?
Swept aside as rubble by a squalling rush of glee
Chaos is a mantle
A gaily waving stole
But live we rise to soldier on in keeping our parole

Lightning flashes traced the sky and magic rent the air
Foot by foot the wave was chipped before it hit the square
Rendered less to spend itself against their fervent prayer
And wash them down across the town in rushing current tear

Tempest in a teacup
What’s a wave to me?
My jaunty affect in repose shook by the storm’s decree
Chaos is a mantle
A gaily waving stole
But chaos always knows its own and always takes its toll

One down among them bleeding fast while still they fight the storm
Another frozen to the sight of Lady Doom’s transform
Music plays down shrilling winds that blend now to perform
The ocean stills to screams of pain in one whose blood runs warm

Tempest in a teacup
What’s a wave to me?
Music soothe the savage storm to dying by degree
Chaos is a mantle
A gaily waving stole
The price was paid to stay the waves but who has lost their soul