Shalot
Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2008 3:13 am
Down by the raven and glistening, black hair
Past the wolves in all the traps of the lair
Throught the glass of the stupified, puppet stare
Further than the starry, gambles of the lovesick mare
To the battlements and surveying of the kingdom of Camelot
Flew the white, winged horse from the island of Shalott
Into the black and bloody armour of the love of Lancelot
More than the arrow of the hardest anger that was ever shot
There lay a maiden, on a boat, in the reeds, who dreams of wrong
Mirrored in her shield, of the dirges and her etheral song
Captivated in a magikal land of power, in which she did not belong
In her self esteem she would grow and manage to be very strong
Fair maiden heart and the principles of the white and the red linear mark
The horse with the two knight riders and the beauty of the treasure of the Ark
Into the island's of the mists of time and it's petrified tree of the sacred bark
The conflict of power that happened to replicate, the primeval universe of the dark
Past the graves that ghost and Banshee, whistle the Celtic fables of the very old
There stood a knight that was blacker nae tarnished the nature of the divine gold
For loving a lady that was already dead and whose round history was about to unfold
Crusaded a lifetime for the right of his pure, unsullied love to be revealed and told
Past the wolves in all the traps of the lair
Throught the glass of the stupified, puppet stare
Further than the starry, gambles of the lovesick mare
To the battlements and surveying of the kingdom of Camelot
Flew the white, winged horse from the island of Shalott
Into the black and bloody armour of the love of Lancelot
More than the arrow of the hardest anger that was ever shot
There lay a maiden, on a boat, in the reeds, who dreams of wrong
Mirrored in her shield, of the dirges and her etheral song
Captivated in a magikal land of power, in which she did not belong
In her self esteem she would grow and manage to be very strong
Fair maiden heart and the principles of the white and the red linear mark
The horse with the two knight riders and the beauty of the treasure of the Ark
Into the island's of the mists of time and it's petrified tree of the sacred bark
The conflict of power that happened to replicate, the primeval universe of the dark
Past the graves that ghost and Banshee, whistle the Celtic fables of the very old
There stood a knight that was blacker nae tarnished the nature of the divine gold
For loving a lady that was already dead and whose round history was about to unfold
Crusaded a lifetime for the right of his pure, unsullied love to be revealed and told
