It Gets Dark Early
Round this way it gets dark early,
So all the people follow suit,
Antler crowns and flowers in their hair
Amulets designed to catch the solstice sun
And faux Orion belts round their waists.
Never enough light around this way,
So our eyes adjust and pupils get big,
Chakras aligning with the shadows cast
By all the bigger figures of imperial history
And them chains they got tangled in.
Round this way celebration requires fire,
So the hands are always sap stained and cracked,
The axes have constant existential crises
They are the only ones singing and swinging
And that just doesn’t seem fair.
Never enough good around these days,
So we just wear cloaks plucked from ravens,
Better to blend into those smoky bar walls
While sticky hands pass ciders and meads
And all the voices mumble apologies.
Round this way superstition reigns,
So all the sovereigns lean on the entrails
Cast about by lazy shamans with red hands
Despite them never picking up afterward
And claim truth is theirs alone to create.
Never enough round this way,
Yes, round this way there is never enough.