Tomb of the Subtle Song
Subtle sounds falling, from broken words, and broken thoughts
Teaching the witless, the failures, I have always wrought
Never do I wish, for golden tongues, to be taken
To fall upon death, to prey upon, to be forsaken
Helpless to their wit, would this be true, if it would stand
The test of the tick, their words broken, upon the arid land
Fail upon the drums, they are broken, beyond this hope
Sounds thy words formless, the drums beating, truths could never cope
My screams will sharpen, my tongue it breaks, the drums beating
Banshees ever weep, green in their eyes, as words fall fleeting
Never will my words, never my thoughts, break through the sound
Wisdom’s evasion, grasping moments, is ignorance found
Bane of the banshees, bane of thyself, the witless are
Screams and whispers fail, upon his drums, from the near yet far
Speak of what they wish, of what they don’t, or in between
Hints are something shown, always knowing, never are they keen
For I’m not the witless, my screams upon, my whispers too
Truly they are fools, for my subtle, words will be their tomb