When the Bees Are Sleeping - Murder

Snowy mountainside

with trees on

cold winds blowing by

my season

blinded by the light

everything I see

right as rain

dead october daze

no reason

lying in the hay

with heat on

nearly stuck on you

you are rubber

I am glue

and it doesn’t have to take to long to win it back

when the bees are sleeping

days of little hours growing longer as we walk

through solemn singing

when the has begun we strike a pose

and the bells start ringing

past and present lights

are shining

magic carpet rides

while dining

blinded by the tides

cold and icy blue

Winterland

I know this to be

a pleasure

all is entity

no measure

this my elegy

find out what it means

to me

and it doesn’t have to take too long to win it back

from a time of weeping

see children running by with swords and paper hats

hide and seeking

and the widows had a gift for stuffing in the cracks

in the walls of wailing