'In the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to look a little dark and threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored patches arose in it and spread, black shadows moved about in them, the roar of the beasts of prey was quite different now, and...
all i got is my poetry and in deep blue i think of all the hues that we dreamt of.
i don't want to think of the things to come, in deepest shade i wait and hold to those stagnant waters i've known so long.
it hangs like funeral lilies over me, and i see them all weeping for me in white sunshine, won't tell them how i was unkind, the worst kind.
won't tell them about my dreams, won't tell them about those velvet seams -- won't tell them about the hell fire waiting for me won't tell them how i saw it gleam --
and i don't know why, don't understand this alien ocean, that is my flesh and bone and my tears like stone to sink down to the seabed; my solemn head to rest there,
(still with your breath at my nape --)
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