Enchant The Child Poem by David Lacey

Enchant the child with false ideals
Make him pray before each meal,
You should wait to see if he does it of his own accord.

Free the way for procession,
in honour of the queen bee,
in honour of magpie sanctuary

fly on the wings of a dragon
trailing destruction in his wake,
dont shake me now im sleeping,
you can't eat your cake before it's baked

thiefs and poets, maybe one in the same,
maybe two in a million, maybe it lies in the name
like we lie to the beat, to the teachers at school,
when they claim we're a genius and we know we're a fool

take me now dont wake me, into a land of forgotten souls,
to reminsiese with the ancients, doorways revealed to us by twilight,
as the moons silver song comes to a graceful end,
mother pearl asking, enticed by the pendulum man turning by her side, catching magick in the palms of her hand, content with the answers that her intuition creates in a land wthout questions,
for we've been told too many times that it was curiosity that killed the cat.

Lost in the lakes, following the pipes of pan, those that can hereld the call of the mountain, drawn to it in the dead of night as the clouds roll in to the valley, they percieved as god's the wonders of the land, a land that untill that point had not made its reality clear.
Down below there companions sat gathered around a fire, without alcohol without intoxication they sucumb to the desire, speeding down teh mountainside without haste
wasted, crazed, out of there minds, they'd give there minds to taste the forbidden fruits of this land, to swin in its waters, to the blacket depths, how deep can you go, ow long without breathing, how long will it last before you feel the need to relieve your position, just how long will it take?

A Sacrifice of our comfort to the mountain,
of the mountain to their safe return,
with stories of flames, upon distant horizons,
of mountain goat and bulls that we're not theirs to tame,

still in the name of all thats wise,
they gathered there sense below the skies,
drifting home their seperate ways,
each without the words to say,

one scrambling down the face of a giant, hanging low off his brow,
one sliding down the inside of a chimney stack, he couldn't tell you now, how he managed to pull on through.

Yet he made it, the last in his fluescent shirt, and a wig to suit all occasions, he came rolling down the mountain to meet without arrangement
the first and second to win the race, did not have so much of a grin on their face.
Soaked through in sweat, battered with bruises, the rest of the herd want to know if it was a ruse, a simple joke a trick that they may care to share with the tribe.

Vibrations shattered inhibitions, the music set the tone, yet all was not so rosey with all so far from home.

Time for us to sleep, nowhere to keep our sanity dry in the rain, spinning in the darkness, loosing sense of direction, still we gotta keep on moving or nothing will ever change, we gotta take a chance