The ghost of the boy that I was then
Sits still and talks to me
With his passionate love of a half-seen truth
And his sweet absurdity.
All that I thought I could nearly see
All that I used to hear,
Before the curtain was rent and I saw
The naked life too clear.
Sits still and talks to me
With his passionate love of a half-seen truth
And his sweet absurdity.
All that I thought I could nearly see
All that I used to hear,
Before the curtain was rent and I saw
The naked life too clear.
Ere I saw too clear the awful fear
And the horror of emptiness,
Ere I knew too well that the pit of hell
Was a pit that was bottomless,
And knew there was never a king in hell,
In heaven never a throne,
Only the void and a shivering soul,
That drifts by itself alone.
And the horror of emptiness,
Ere I knew too well that the pit of hell
Was a pit that was bottomless,
And knew there was never a king in hell,
In heaven never a throne,
Only the void and a shivering soul,
That drifts by itself alone.
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