Over the clouds and through the air
of wandering birds and angels fair
the stones are fallen, the portcullis down
the gates are open the town is gone
The silence it lingers all through the place
but only a whisper and only a face
upon one small mirror upon one small stand
is the sole resident in this sad land
No longer the sentries along every step
no longer the people to guard and keep
the hallways are empty the beds unslept
there’s dust in the pantry, the wine unsweet
Over the clouds and through the air
of wandering birds and angels fair
in night or in day dreams you might fly
to the abandoned castle in the sky
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