When the Lion awakes
He spreads red across the sky
And then up comes his orange burning eye
His fiery mane flying all around.
He roars and yet I cannot hear the sound.
He burns, and yet never comes the night
He turns, I turn, I baste in his light.
I bake in his light.
And when I'm done, it's night.
Chris
Posted by cholte at September 20, 2005 08:00 PM