Cross Lines

An exchange at the cross roads is where we cross the line

Cross Lines

Abandon hope who enter
With white noise on the calls
The dead, they walk the centre
And ghosts, they line the halls
Ley-lines we still travel
Used to tread with friends
Familiar paths unravel
And destinations rend
Asked to stand, deliver
We yield to dark plots
Wield dead men’s quivers
Bowing to the shots
Men no longer merry
With calls been put on hold
The journey makes us wary
With the fire burning cold
I guess that’s just the way
The way such stories go
With pieces left in play
Pawns lined in a row
Lined up over mentors
We envy ones that fall
The dead, they walk the centre
And the ghosts... they line the halls