Show me back to the path,
Where the ground has split in half,
Like the claws of a cloven hoof.
Where the shelves have shifted fast,
Raising highways for the lost
Explorers, searching for truth.
Fault lines disappear
Now the hanging wall is here,
Imposing it's varved clay beak.
A wishbone pulled apart
By a child in the dark,
Who's hoping for the larger tusk.
Take my hand, lead me south,
To the maw, that gaping mouth
From where the dumb mud drips.
These dreams may be too late
But return me to the wake
And into the stream, I'll slip.
But greed for greener grass
Lures me cruelly to the past,
Like a siren calling from the rock.
Left stranded in a vale,
It's lonely in the shade
That wicked memory makes.
So come find me, in a yellow wood.
I'll be waiting, in a yellow wood.
You and I, in a yellow wood.
All alone, in a yellow wood.