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The Nightmare

by S. J. Donnelly and David Gans

There’s no motion save the passing of the hours
There are things you cannot see from inside towers
For a man must put to sea to be a sailor

The standard-bearer breaks his stride
Falls off the overpass and dies
The season shivers in its tracks and trembles
The portrait that the son had painted
Finds the subject torn and tainted
Haunted by whose future it resembles

There are seeds of trouble growing in the flowers
Terror tends the guardhouse of the towers
For a man must put to sea to be a sailor

Lightning flashes freeze the rain
He thrashes to avoid the pain
A voice too loud to hear has barely spoken

The sun sets on the thunderheads
Calm regains the watersheds
In nature’s way, some circles can’t be broken

A white cat lifts its head and spits
Like a winter ghost it sits
And hisses threats at all who would address it
You think you know black from white
Well, I know grey from grey at night
I see so clearly, why can’t I express it?


© 1990 Whispering Hallelujah (BMI)