The bearded mage
Beneath a sickle moon
Reads the ancient tome
Lost in the glow
Of the candle by the window
Fire burn slow
The trees are laden with snow
Fire burn slow
The trees are laden with snow
I have ascended straight into the clouds
Spoke into them and made lightning burst out
All power lies in the book upon the page
It lies in waiting for the bearded mage
Gaze among the shelves
Many hoary volumes dwell
All known too well
Indecision casts a staying spell
Settle on the same
It’s been read and read again
Familiar decay
Tales of hurt and sorrow and pain
I have ascended straight into the clouds
Spoke into them and made lightning burst out
All power lies in the book upon the page
It lies in waiting for the bearded mage
I’ve seen my death in the flames
Stared for hours on end
When one gets this old
He knows nothing but pain
Constant pain
Old and decrepit
Life beginning to wane
All birds fly away
An image cast upon the lake
By my hand the sky shall fall
And the earth shall quake
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