the seventh time i was born, thrown into the oddessy of fools, amongst the bards and poets, amongst the spirit dwellers, hark, the sound of bells ringing, chimes travelling through the thick night, hark, the carrion doth fly in the straightest of lines, from cradle to grave, from fallen to saved, from area 51 to section number 9. like little children, like a teenage ghost, just like the average adult and the middle aged man, only he's much older now, ancient and wise, holding court with the kings and knaves, vermilion skies and emerald isles, you sail into my harbour, travelling blind, no navigation no star to guide, here i am, here i am, all of me. the glittering prize, the last one standing, the simple mind. occasional whisper, words of sound, waves in the sky, ripples on water, you must have closed the space between with that smile, a circuit breaker and joker and faker but you made me grin and howl with laughter, and now i see just what your after. one more life time won't buy you time, it's the sand in the hourglass, it's running out. it's the great equaliser, no one escapes, do or die, win or lose, the devils in drag as it slips away.