Moles

[ness]

The moles are digging,
Though the debris of your mind,
Are searching for the remainders,
Of the hopes you left behind.

A million angels singing,
A song they wrote for you,
A million broken promises ,
We knew were never true.

While the moles still go on digging,
Through the debris of your mind,
Looking for the remainders of,
The aspirations of mankind.

And now we sit here waiting,
Waiting for your return,
Like abandoned little children,
Like ashes in the urn.

And the mole stills goes on digging,
Through the debris of your mind,
Through the nights of our non feeling,
Our souls all deaf and blind.

All the rest has left us
The angel's dead and gone,
Only the hollow echoing of
Our sad and lonely song.

The meaning has been lost,
In the labyrinth of time,
But the moles still go on digging,
Blindly searching for a sign.

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