A Harsh Real Stone

A Harsh Real Stone

A harsh real stone

An ice cold bone

While I drink alone

There is no point to moan

 

A harsh real stone

Shiny birds have flown

Through the knowledge known

A sweet and simple clone

 

A harsh real stone

You cannot atone

A shinny edge to hone

There is no point to moan

 

A harsh real stone

A simple loner’s loan

With a deep low groan

Within the arctic zone

 

A harsh real stone

In a lower tone

Only dark things sown

Where the birds have flown

 

A harsh real stone

In a cyclone

Mother Nature’s cone

It’s an ice cold bone

 

A real harsh stone

All your cover’s blown

The concept of time as flown

While your mind postpones