A Dream Remembered


On Friday, in the forest, I’ll die.
At least it’s by my own hand.
On that day, I’ll become a magpie.
I’m making my last stand.
On Friday, in the forest, I’ll die.
And then, given the wings to fly,
My soul will leave as planned.
On that day, I’ll become a magpie,
And I’ll make sure she doesn’t cry.
What we’ll do that night is banned.
On Friday, in the forest, I’ll die.
Your gifts, given before red eye
Will lead me to the Holy Land.
On that day, I’ll become a magpie,
But your words mustn’t pry.
Oh, the hourglass runs out of sand.
On Friday, in the forest, I’ll die.
On that day, I’ll become a magpie.

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