Copyright 1990, S Hartwell
Written for friend's band

Leona, you really thought that you could fly,
But I never thought youíd fly away from me,
You thought it was another crazy game,
And now Iíll never hear your voice again.

I canít recall what we said that night,
Canít recall the actual words I said,
But they went to your heart instead of to your head
And now thereís nothing I can do to make it right.

Iíd found another girl and thought I loved her,
Could we stay friends? You said youíd try,
And then you walked up to the open window,
Turned to me and said Ďgoodbyeí.

The curtains fluttered in the gentle breeze,
Five storeys up from busy city streets.

Leona - you really thought that you could fly,
I never thought that you would ever try
To fly away from me. And youíll never know
Iíll never love her quite like I loved you.

Copyright 1989, S Hartwell
Written as lyrics for a goth-type band.

Thereís a wolf at my door and itís baying for blood,
I gave it my own but now it wants more,
I gave it my own but now it wants yours.
Thereís a wolf at my throat and itís after my heart
I gave it my blood but itís not satisfied,
I can see feral hunger shine in its red eyes.

Thereís a wolf at my heart and itís after my life,
It took all I offered and now it wants more,
It took my heart and my life, that wolf at my door.
The wolfís name is love and runs in my blood,
It gnaws at my heart and shines in my eyes,
I can feel its hot hunger prowling inside.

That wolf in my heart is hungry for you,
I gave it my heart but now it wants yours,
I feel the deep yearning of wolfís teeth and claws,
The feral inside me burns up with lust.
Shall I open the door, shall I let the wolf in?
Shall I open the door and let wolf-lust spring?

Thereís a wolf in my heart and it whines like the lost,
Itís an innocent puppy with adult pretensions,
Full of hot lust and strange apprehension.
Thereís a wolf on the threshold, wagging its tail;
Shall I open the door and let the wolf in;

Copyright 1991, S Hartwell

My heart is clad-in steel, proof against the arrows of hatred or desire,
My mind bound about in iron, hard thoughts rebuff unsought intrusion.
I have a wall of words to exclude the laughers, lovers and enquirers,
A carapace of obsidian indifference which is merely an illusion,
And the soul of a poet.

Feeble flutterings of feelings stir, far too long suppressed,
By armour which isolates me from THEM, shutting all men out.
Wings of despair beat in my breast, against my wall of hopelessness,
Submerged beneath the shell which hides a vulnerable self from those without,
The soul of a poet.

Tear down the walls! Iíve existed too long without emotion to call it "living",
Too long been trapped within barriers of my own insane devising.
Stunted feelings breach battlements - through the doors of misgivings,
Kernels of repressed vitality bursts out, unleashes pinioned feelings,
That soul of a poet.

Copyright 1989, S Hartwell
Written as lyrics for a goth-type band.

I asked you for the world
And you gave me the stars,
I only wanted your body
But you gave me your heart.

You mortgaged your body,
You ransomed your soul,
For the love I wonít give you,
Love I donít want to know.

You paid the piper,
But Iíll choose the tune,
Iíve danced with the devil -
What more can I lose?

So donít come here crawling,
I didnít ask for your heart,
I only wanted the world,
Not the sun and the stars.

Copyright 1989, S Hartwell
Written as lyrics for a goth-type band.

I took the cup of knowledge
And held it to my breast
I did not dare to drink a drop
Nor would I dare to let
Another sup from that pure chalice.
I poured it on the ground,
To seep into the earth
So no-one else could have it.

I held the book of wisdom
Closed upon my lap;
I dared not turn the pages
But sealed it shut with amber
So others could not read.
And then I burned it in a pyre
Afraid that someone
Else might see my brave misdeed.

Now I need the scattered ashes
Of a book I never read,
Can I run to catch them in the wind
And recreate the words?
And the knowledge that I spilled
Onto the rank and fallow fields,
However much I suck at stems,
No knowledge will they yield.

Copyright 1989, S Hartwell
Written as lyrics for a goth-type band.

Beloved son, my time is near,
Stay here beside my death bed,
Beloved son, fear only fear
Death is not worth the fearing -

Beloved son - stay close to me
And watch the day pale into darkness.
The veils are pulled across my sight,
Beloved son stay here tonight.

And when the final curtainís pulled
Before my fading eyes, night falls.
Stay with me - stay here this night,
Stay close beside my bedside.

Stay with me, stay here tonight,
And make my dying easy.
And should I suffer pain and doubt,
Your final duties will be clear,

Should I need a clean way out -
Make my dying easy.
Beloved son - stay close tonight,
And make my dying easy,

Beloved son, stay here tonight,
And watch the day pale into darkness.
Stay close tonight flesh of my flesh,
Heart of my heart donít leave me!

Stay close within my fading sight
And make my dying easy!
And when the final curtainís pulled
Before my eyes the dark night falls.

The long dark night is closing in -
I hear the shadows rustle,
I smell the attar of his breath,
Decaying tatters of his flesh.

I feel the night come rushing in
Beloved son donít fail me,
Stay close beside my bed tonight
And make my dying easy.


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