Miasma - Ohmme

A moth has gone longing for

A house that was a home

With aching teeth of coral reef

To swallow up the whole

A beach of amber glinting past

A shiny glimpse of soul

With graying hair from temples vast

And never guest, oh no

Oh no, oh no

Oh no, oh no

They pick and pick to make us sick

A microscopic toad

A mind miasma sticking quick

A bit to quick to hold it off

Before the fog has settled in

I focus on the cold

This day will never be the end (?)

Reminding me of home

Of home, of home

Of home, of home

Of home, of home

Of home, of home

Of home, of home

Of home, of home