stamping through the dust of a hundred centuries
the romans and the christians and the greeks
we join our little troupe of misfits
half asleep
and head straight to the land of future memories

and you sleep as a volcano
appears outside my window
its history the source of all this mystery
speaking in strange tongues that make
the natives smiles grow wider
a butchery of sentiment and grammar

fairy chimney, lake of salt, all-you-can-eat
the names of things I never can remember
smoking in the days
those timeless moments we must wait
and gaze upon our ancient father figures

back in the valley you confess
it may not last much longer
a decade sliding off your sloping shoulders
and sadness lies ahead
but now we’ve reached the highest summit
time and space take little place in this old haunted dreamland
time and space take little place in this old haunted dreamland
time and space take little place in this old haunted dreamland

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