Rising from the lake a ghostly haze.
I dreamed I saw my unborn baby.
To the well my spirit ran.
Heart to heart, clutching my hand.
Guinevere thy treachery spoke.
Upon my soul I never eloped.
The day had come.
The night must go.
All is revealed of the land below.
Through valleys.
Over stiles.
My dream wanders countless miles.
A trodden path.
A chorus to sing.
Prepare to meet anything.
Capability Red aprox' 1978
Sunday, 1 May 2016
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