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Last Of The Star Line

from by Mono Stone

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Mildewed skulls among the clouds are sketching the light,
A hunter's story, tragic in fury, seems so alive,
Upon the floor, seven hundred before us, cased in ice,
Address him now, kiss his brow, begin the night.

Clutch any wonder revealed by the grooves in this heavy sleep,
In places of god seven hundred of us and we reigned supreme,
In devilish weather we voyage the sea with ferocious minds,
Last of the Star Line.

Reverse the light to bring the night beneath the blue,
A portrait is hung, remembered in song with words untrue,
This grave never ends, terror we bred with broken limbs,
Magic their souls, intent on parole, the city sings.

Still more cased in ice, it's a terror of whiteness and leaning spires.
Old fairy tale green is a forest of dreaming untraveled miles,
These things alone make the tearless remember to change their minds,
Last of the Star Line.


from Mono Stone, released May 18, 2016



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Mono Stone Manchester, UK

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