Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
- May 3, 2002
- Posts
- 66,591
From the Witchwood
- Thread starter Byron In Exile
- Start date
parodyluvr75
Owl of Minerva
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2012
- Posts
- 17,808
Cool.
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
- May 3, 2002
- Posts
- 66,591
The hillside was a patchwork quilt
Neatly stitched with tidy hedge
And crumbling grey stone walls
The trees were bare, but Spring was near
To conjure up its endless strings
Of green magic handkerchieves
Could you only see what I've seen
You would surely know what I mean
I think I must have caught a glimpse of heaven
A string of diamonds formed a stream
That tumbled down the daunting cliff
To sparkle bright on the beach
New born lambs that sweetly played
Speckled eggs all newly laid
But for you, I would have stayed
I think I must have caught a glimpse of heaven
Neatly stitched with tidy hedge
And crumbling grey stone walls
The trees were bare, but Spring was near
To conjure up its endless strings
Of green magic handkerchieves
Could you only see what I've seen
You would surely know what I mean
I think I must have caught a glimpse of heaven
A string of diamonds formed a stream
That tumbled down the daunting cliff
To sparkle bright on the beach
New born lambs that sweetly played
Speckled eggs all newly laid
But for you, I would have stayed
I think I must have caught a glimpse of heaven
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
- May 3, 2002
- Posts
- 66,591
That's Rick Wakeman being all destructive with his Hammond B-3.
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
- May 3, 2002
- Posts
- 66,591
I dropped down in the Witchwood
To see what I could find
The trees had taken time out
To blow away my mind
All that I could hear there
Was the sound of my own voice
But the music it was making
Was nothing of my choice
The interwoven branches
Were laden deep with snow
A rainbow shone so softly
To show which way to go
I observed its many colours
Till my eyes were rimmed with frost
I tried hard to trace my footsteps
For I feared I might get lost
The Witchwood started singing
With a strange unearthly sound
My fingers grew like branches
I stood rooted to the ground
And the spell is still unbroken
I am still her bidden slave
Till a casket from the Witchwood
Bears my body to the grave
To see what I could find
The trees had taken time out
To blow away my mind
All that I could hear there
Was the sound of my own voice
But the music it was making
Was nothing of my choice
The interwoven branches
Were laden deep with snow
A rainbow shone so softly
To show which way to go
I observed its many colours
Till my eyes were rimmed with frost
I tried hard to trace my footsteps
For I feared I might get lost
The Witchwood started singing
With a strange unearthly sound
My fingers grew like branches
I stood rooted to the ground
And the spell is still unbroken
I am still her bidden slave
Till a casket from the Witchwood
Bears my body to the grave
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
- May 3, 2002
- Posts
- 66,591
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
- May 3, 2002
- Posts
- 66,591
The village square stands quiet with the curfew still in force
The streets are even clear of dogs and whores
Like some evil bird of prey the scaffold spreads its wings
The people build their fires and bolt their doors
The mayor is giving dinner to the officers and wives
His eldest son is learning how to fawn
The barrack block is hushed and tense, the soldiers drawing lots
Who will be the hangman in the dawn?
The lot falls on a young man who has served for but a year
His home is in the village close nearby
He shivers at the thought of what he's forced to do next day
He wonders who it is that has to die
The full moon casts a cold light on the gloomy prison walls
The papist walks his cell, he cannot sleep
He hears the waiting gallows creaking just beyond the door
He prays for he has no more tears to weep
The day begins to break, the muffled drums begin to sound
A crowd begins to gather in the square
The presence of the hangman in his terrifying mask
Weighs heavy on the minds of all those there
The colonel reads the sentence which the papist knows by heart
He has failed to show allegiance to the King
His crime is thus with God Himself, in His name he must hang
The papist, head held high, says not a thing
The jailer binds his hands and puts the blindfold to his eyes
He leads him through the door before the crowd
The hangman sees his victim and the blood drains from his face
He sees his younger brother standing proud
The hangman tries to protest but is ordered to proceed
His trembling hands begin to take the strain
His eyes are blind with streaming tears, he cries for all to hear:
Forgive me God, we hang him in Thy Name!
Forgive me God, we hang him in Thy Name!
Forgive me God, we hang him in Thy Name!
The streets are even clear of dogs and whores
Like some evil bird of prey the scaffold spreads its wings
The people build their fires and bolt their doors
The mayor is giving dinner to the officers and wives
His eldest son is learning how to fawn
The barrack block is hushed and tense, the soldiers drawing lots
Who will be the hangman in the dawn?
The lot falls on a young man who has served for but a year
His home is in the village close nearby
He shivers at the thought of what he's forced to do next day
He wonders who it is that has to die
The full moon casts a cold light on the gloomy prison walls
The papist walks his cell, he cannot sleep
He hears the waiting gallows creaking just beyond the door
He prays for he has no more tears to weep
The day begins to break, the muffled drums begin to sound
A crowd begins to gather in the square
The presence of the hangman in his terrifying mask
Weighs heavy on the minds of all those there
The colonel reads the sentence which the papist knows by heart
He has failed to show allegiance to the King
His crime is thus with God Himself, in His name he must hang
The papist, head held high, says not a thing
The jailer binds his hands and puts the blindfold to his eyes
He leads him through the door before the crowd
The hangman sees his victim and the blood drains from his face
He sees his younger brother standing proud
The hangman tries to protest but is ordered to proceed
His trembling hands begin to take the strain
His eyes are blind with streaming tears, he cries for all to hear:
Forgive me God, we hang him in Thy Name!
Forgive me God, we hang him in Thy Name!
Forgive me God, we hang him in Thy Name!
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
- May 3, 2002
- Posts
- 66,591
parodyluvr75
Owl of Minerva
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2012
- Posts
- 17,808
A man is more than his organ.
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
- May 3, 2002
- Posts
- 66,591
"Sheep" might be a bit much for people.
"Out in the Cold" might serve as a diversion:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XRyr-04T4kQ
^ odd video... but I like it in a way.
"Out in the Cold" might serve as a diversion:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XRyr-04T4kQ
^ odd video... but I like it in a way.
mamasota
Queens Bee
- Joined
- Sep 12, 2013
- Posts
- 25,663
Fucking lost are those walking in the half light down secret paths.
Hold an extended hand some fucking time would you, coño.
mamasota
Queens Bee
- Joined
- Sep 12, 2013
- Posts
- 25,663
I do not agree, dolf, but that incomprensible sense of je ne sais pas By gets
from whatever the fuck he assumes the people do not understand,
leaves the sheep out in the cold.
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
- May 3, 2002
- Posts
- 66,591
dolf
copping a feel
- Joined
- Oct 2, 2004
- Posts
- 78,747
that's nice dear. you still suck! stop sucking
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
- May 3, 2002
- Posts
- 66,591
I walked in the city at midday
It was empty and bare
I looked in the mirror at midnight
There was nobody there
You had become the very breath that I breathed
You were all I desired, my will to succeed
But now I know how it feels to be old
Out in the cold
I walked in the city at midday
It was feeling the strain
I looked in the mirror at midnight
It was starting to rain
I sucked on your breasts, your legs opened wide
I could scarcely believe all the pleasures inside
But now I know how it feels to be old
Out in the cold
Whoever believed in astrological signs
Under my eyes your name burns in the lines
For now I know how it feels to be old
Out in the cold
It was empty and bare
I looked in the mirror at midnight
There was nobody there
You had become the very breath that I breathed
You were all I desired, my will to succeed
But now I know how it feels to be old
Out in the cold
I walked in the city at midday
It was feeling the strain
I looked in the mirror at midnight
It was starting to rain
I sucked on your breasts, your legs opened wide
I could scarcely believe all the pleasures inside
But now I know how it feels to be old
Out in the cold
Whoever believed in astrological signs
Under my eyes your name burns in the lines
For now I know how it feels to be old
Out in the cold
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
- May 3, 2002
- Posts
- 66,591
We need to devise a way to trap him, before he shoots somebody in the face.
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
- May 3, 2002
- Posts
- 66,591
Teach me Spanish, and I promise to fuck you ten ways from next Sunday.
dolf
copping a feel
- Joined
- Oct 2, 2004
- Posts
- 78,747
throw a toaster at him
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
- May 3, 2002
- Posts
- 66,591
No, that's a recipe for him liking you more.throw a toaster at him
We need to end this guy.
