The Man That Time Forgot
He doesn't have a carpet for his
green and grey apartment and the
light bulb only shines at 40 watts.
The yellow glow is hot.
An old idea it's not.
The chestnut on his head defending
ears from all the modern music
what the words mean, anybody knows.
The cupboard draws have rows.
of all his parents clothes.
I'm from a world that time forgot.
His flaking skin is dessicating,
creeping darkness enveloping
every corner of the ancient scene.
The picture is serene,
in Eastern German green.
(night solo)
The eyes of parents photographs
are crying, slowly staring back
as second after second clicks away.
Cold night into warm day.
For creaking joints to play
at chasing clouds away.
I'm from a world that time forgot.
The house is just an island now, a
drifting cube in oceans new, a
cardinal of silence and decay.
The empire counts the cost
by cataloguing dust.
The skeleton and timeless essence
live inside a metal robot
digital immortal polished clean.
This is a chrome machine.
A distant future dream
made by the man that time...
within a world that time...
I am a tale that time forgot.
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