If i were to travel forgotten lands to see
the ruin, behind the path i've paved


phantoms that guide the winds
illuminous sparks that dare to whisper
in the night a dimmer dream
and only myself,
to listen
to silence
to strum the strings i feel
to bring the tone of air from steel
melody for forest to hear
and only myself


to spin the spell of sound, to enrapture such spirit
from shell, that used to host the living
haunting me to see again
the ways before me gone
deep down under, and so very far
worshipping devils with my guitar


for this is the age that is among us
and you'll feel the distance of my stare
and you'll hear the desperation in the winds
that phantoms carry to tell

there is a dark poet that reads to himself
there is a musician that plays to none
there is a traveler that travels
to where one has tread
to where he plays his guitar till he's dead