The Vigil from Door 17 by Door 17

Night fog in misty marshes,
Trees lay twisted, roots unfold
Dead land, of dampened darkness
Naked branches and willows grow
Leaves die, the sky is smothered
Covered up with moss and mould
In the trees, they lie in hiding
Biding time and watching close

I'm so cynical
And I am not anything more for you
I'll sleep away this all
And not wake up until late morning

Night falls, the blackness calls
The dreary peering eyes of gnomes - in their
Wood shoes, and wooden hooves
Around the fire they dance with trolls
They know that I'm alone
I've tangled every word I know
I'm found, my hands are bound
I'll seek the shadows until I'm yours

I'm not an alien
But I am no one I can trust, because
I bruised my cranium
And shook the memories into dust

And I feel like I'm drowning in all that i know
Am I hiding inside where my mind should not go
I wasn't trying to buy in by selling my soul
Oh I don't know

Oh me, oh my, oh no
I have discovered that I am ill, and it
Pains me, but I must go
I am late for my vigil

• 90's
• Alternative
• alternative rock
• altrock
• grunge
• indie rock
• North Vancouver