I heard the music swirl and stir in my head
And then I tried to put pen to paper instead
Lost in some kind of magic of my own design
After so many years, you're here and still mine

My Muse still lays upon my bed
Yea, in the daytime she whispers songs unsaid
And yet by night she's off with all manner of lowlife screaming to a microphone
There wherein no "soul" lies

I'm aching for a connection with you
The world has been turning
This echo's still burning
Of a dream that once was new

Now my body has been strewn across the ages
Mind waxed in mirrors deep
You've come to visit me, repeatedly
Yet most people still stay fast asleep

So listen; there's only noise playing in the Garden
Ears and senses stopped as they gaze on high
While beauty's been lain at their feet
Wandering about, slain by a radio
Which never seems to bring relief

So Muse; where you off to now?
The Anthropoid Man can't hear a sound
And hence, so soon will I reject you too..
There are simply too many monkeys crying aloud