hour of the rabbit

vanishing words mean more than can be said
triumphant symbols of a world gone sour
the living have much in common with the dead

takes more than hair to make someone a dread
beneath their helmets even the strong cower
vanishing words mean more than can be said

promiscuous colours come down to plain red
at night we're woken by the sudden shower
the living have much in common with the dead

each day we struggle for some crumbs of bread
yet a small cottage trumps the greatest tower
vanishing words mean more than can be said

from here to there all vagrant thoughts are sped
casualties of what seems a wayward power
the living have much in common with the dead

at last we've triumphed inside each wary head
this is we deem fate's long-awaited hour
vanishing words mean more than can be said
the living have much in common with the dead