Wine and Roses
The days of wine and roses are behind us now
hidden by mist as we disappear from memory
The young ones no longer remember us
We are old Gods that danced on the head of a pin
The river no longer flows in our favour
Our lives turn to myth and legend, to be put aside
like childhood toys. How easy they forget.
We do not disappear. We reform, returning
to take our rightful place in men’s psyche
we dance on the head of a pin once more
taste the sweet wine,
walk through the rose gardens we made.
Your earth belongs to us, we return…