Old Ghosts
Hair stands high on the cats back like
A ridge of threatening hills.
Sheepdogs howl, make tracks and growl ---
Their tails hanging low.
And young children falter in their games
At the altar of lifes hide-and-seek
Between tall pillars, where sunday-night killers
In grey raincoats peek.
Misty colours unfold a backcloth cold ---
Fine tapestry of silk
I draw around me like a cloak
And soundless glide a-drifting
On eddies whirled in beech leaves furled ---
Brown and gold they fly
In the warm mesh of sunlight
Sifting now from a cloudless sky.
Ill be coming again like an old dog in pain
Blown through the eye of the hurricane
Down to the stones where old ghosts play.
song performed by Jethro Tull
Added by Lucian Velea
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