Around these old cold stone walls,
these humble spirits foat from a distance
in the halls.
They aim to reach out into your presence
if you call,
they'll save their energy so the light you see is worth it all.
The year was 1863,
among these acres of trees there was a short reprise in time;
no more would this Dutchess see her daughter come alive.
She fell from nursery rhyms into this long abyss,
nursery rhyhms into this long abyss,
nursery rhyhms into this long abyss of time
Along these union jack shaped trees,
this spirit guided me to where I needed to be that night...
to think that this all started out with a little playful fright?!
I feel eclectic little mixtures of contact unfold,
she could be swinging coats from hangers when you're not feeling cold;
she could help an innocent child find his way down the stairs.
Or play a trick or two on you just to make her presence aware.
But she fell from nursery rhymes into this long abyss,
fell from nursery rhymes away from mothers sweet kiss,
she fell from nursery rhymes into this long abyss of time...
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