When the land is all orange mist
Well the white light man is King
When illuminated streets are deserted
No-one can hear him sing
Tales of trees and animal heads
A girl that he thought he knew
Lonely lay bys a refuge for sin
A pleasure reserved for the few
Nights long forgotten are woken again
And feline eyes reappear
So long since the world was sodden right through
And the moonlight held no fear
Time is an essence that was thrown to the wind
Patience a virtue no more
This man exists but in his own head
Allowing his thoughts to soar
So I desperately cling to all that I know
But age and wisdom befall
And so I am lost too a future unsure
When all that I want is to call
On that orange mist land where I was a King
And my light could be seen for miles
Sitting with friends under sunstreaked trees
When all that I knew were smiles.
(I wrote this about a year ago, maybe more, just happened to find it in an old notebook yesterday.)
