This ale of joy,Has been kept in a grimy room for too long,
The doors haven't opened because you didn't try,
This ale has become much more than a deserted song...
A wisp of laughs,
A quaint conversation for tea,
This essence of the hearth,
This flexibility to zeal...
Twilight was the time for a petite slumber,
Draped in angel light,
A sub-conscious mind that sends you messages from the former,
Yet the present was never very right...
Within the chalice of obstacles,
In a delusional room,
To move away from sloth to light certain candles,
We can all avoid the dungeon of gloom...
The morrow offers me a painting of hope,
Yesterday has been reduced to mesmerizing ash,
Frolic wants to be the scent of the present,
But it is all about to collapse...
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Groove to the era