The Pointless Book

The Loveliest Lies Of All

Led through the mist
By the milk-light of the moon
All that was lost is revealed

Our long bygone burdens
Mere echoes of the spring
But where have we come from and where shall we end?

If dreams can't come true then why not pretend?

How the gentle wind
Beckons through the leaves
As autumn colours fall

Then, sing in a swirl
Of golden memories
The loveliest lies of all