Cannibal--Muffin

When unearthly hellhounds are in hot pursuit When the tree of despair has taken root When waspish louts pester and swarm And the landscape assumes unreal form; When the countless hourglass grains dwindle into thin air When coldhearted Fortune passes judgment unfair When heaven sends the fearsome owl To portend our murder most foul, What comes before? All or some to remember forevermore. We escape into a laughable dream And recall that which we’ve already seen, Or imagine in zany radiance The sort of things that make lunatics dance. We fly back to a time vivid, not grey, For, certainly, we have seen better days. Perhaps we will fly back