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Down With Me
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Imp Mountain (Acoustic)
Come forth, young bard.
Step into the light
And recite
The tale of Sir Albert Ross.
Sing loud, the verse,
That sullied this earth,
One cold miserable day,
Back in old '89.
A sad song is played by a fire
At the base of Imp Mountain.
Nature refrains, for a moment
He plays for the Universe.
Now Albert, from birth
Was bequeathed with a curse
That as long as he loved
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All else would die.
Turned bitter, by fate,
His burden he traded for solace
When he solemnly removed his eyes.
Now flowers grow from bleached bones
In a glade, on Imp Mountain.
Albert's remains stain each page of
His unwritten parable.
Come forth, young bard.
Step into the light
And recite
The tale of Sir Albert Ross.
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