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by Mary Margaret Park

      The "Truest" -------Press----

The cellar door exists no more

The cellar

Door

Exists

No more

 

The cellar door

To even

The score

 

The cellar door

Seas

Dead to rights

The cellar door

Knows no sight

 

The cellar door exists

No more

No more

Is the cellar door

 

The sight is won

Beyond the straights

 

Beyond the straights

The sight is one

 

The one you see

The total sum

Has just begun

Has just begun

 

To sea the sun

Upon the reigns

To check the sums

Of his remains

 

To set the sun

Beyond the plains

Is truly true

And simply sane

Beyond the rains

Is simply sane

 

To press

To press

The ‘pretty’ dress

The ‘pretty’ dress

Knows all the ‘rest’

At his behest

The rest is best

 

The ‘truss’ is bourne

Beyond the plains

Beyond the plains

He holds his reigns

 

Beyond the plains

The ‘rest’ will press

The ‘rest’ will press

Beyond the ‘dress’

At his behest

The very best

Will never rest

Will never rest

At his behest

 

The olden days

Have gone beyond

The furthest reach

Beyond the pond

 

The ‘hormuz’ straights

Remain as ‘bait’

To even score

Beyond the ‘moors’

 

The ‘sailors’ pond

Knows NO bounds

The farthest reach

Is hellish hounds

 

The ‘truer’ grace

Will hold the rest

The truer true

Are ‘truly’ best

For all the rest

For all his days

Remain the same

Remain the same

Remain the same

 

The ‘outer rim’

The ‘outer’ reach

To ‘reach the beach’

The others swim

Beyond the rim

Beyond the rim

 

The ‘oldest’ school

Will stand and fight

Beyond the ‘reach’

The ‘mighty’ might

 

The truest song

Begins again

To lead the way

To swim the ‘swim’

 

The ‘truer’ grace

Remains the same

To stop the games

To stop the ‘gains’

 

The stolen sword

Was ‘forged’ again

Beyond the rim

And ‘silars’ reach

his truest love

the ‘better’ days

beyond his reach

beyond his reach

 

the ‘lost boys’ know

the truer score

has always been

his ‘nevermore’

 

the innocence

will rise again

to show the way

for ‘mighty’ men

 

the truest grace

has come to pass

his better days

No greenest grass

 

The ‘sodden’ fields

Will rise again

The ‘truer’ fruit

Has no sin/begins again

 

The greatest ‘grace

Dwells within

While ‘dead men’ fall

To rise again

 

The ‘oldest’ spark

The ‘deadest' flame

In ‘death’ we rise

To fight the danes

 

The truest sword

The mighty pen

That tells the truth

The ‘truest’ friend