Death Of A Supernaturalist

See my solitude

Where once was truth now only doubt

Touch my tortured skin

Torn from within and from without

Kiss my blistered lips

My fingertips frost-bitten and grey

Heal my wound within

And watch the dead skin fall away

See what can't be seen

Between the table and the chair

Touch what can't be touched

The National Trust don't own the air

Kiss what can't be kissed

This is the risk we have to take

Heal what can't be healed

And feel the dead skin fall away

Only you and I know exactly how it feels

To unblinker a narrow mind

And by doing so reveal the obscurity of life

The intensity of dreams

Only you and I have realised exactly what it means

See the infant sun

Whose time has come to climb the mist

Touch the autumn sky

Burned by the supernaturalist

Kiss the purest lips

The morning slips into the day

Rising from the bed

We feel our dead skin fall away