Zazoore


Sing that song, the lyrics were torn
they rent the air, the curtains were shorn
smelt fire and ice, the burning bone
saying and sworn to never let you alone

It blew the Wind, the sand caught in hand
it slipped it became water it ran over land,
All clothed in draping rags, Zazoore saw the crags
the Mountains of Efornost and the icy stags

He struggled against the heated wind, the stormy sands
to reach across with burning hand, stretching fingers to mountain lands
the wind raged and wept, it blew shards of jagged sand, blotted the light,
it scratched, it tore Zazoore's eyes and blew away his sight.

The burnt feet still trudged, the knees weary, paining, still budged
With a howling strain, it blew across the dry desert called rese-grudge
The whipping wind, with its million frenzied teeth beating to a crazy drum beat
the sound of the camelled hood, the riders that flesh did eat
what was he to do? Zazoore called for aid..to who he apealed?
those peals swept away in a sand ridden wind and the lips were torn, bloodied and peeled

The drum now beat with each heart beat, the blind cry, the lame walk in the deep
Zazoore with each step drained away more life more hope he felt the fear creep.
They say in Efornost there lived a beautiful sprite, afar above in colden might
the sprite that saw with eyes as blue as the frozen ice, and when aid seemed right
descended on the icy stag to meet the burning Camel back,
with a crystal sword met the burning rod, to free the fright and bring hope to them that lack!

Zazoore with the drums in a flaming circle
Zazoore with a whip lash and a burnt mantle
he defied the flaming circle
and whipped out a knife!!

A knife to fight blazing whips and killing sands?
A knife to fight in rese grudge lands?
Or a knife to end the sad sad story of his life?

A rumble of a mountain Efornost, a crumble of a glacier soon to be lost
A decending white cloud, a stillness of sand not sound,
The first free frosts of winters soul so long ago lost
and there apon a white stag, came the sprite, the bane of sand
with a glittering gleam and sparkling sheen
the crystal sword unleashed a fury of razor knifes...

The Camels turned, the hoods, they burned
the frost to match with searing sand, the crystal slew the blazon land
raised one hand and rent the sand, swept a stroke and felled the burning brand
the burning whips the rent the ice, steam and vapor when fire met ice!!!

Zazoore was blind, the blaze had burnt his sight,
his lips were torn the fiery murder had burnt it blight,
the sprite fended of the last brave hooded camel, the sprite saw in crystal orb
the retreating blob, of burnt messy, bloody camels lob
Its fierce icy eyes,blue orbs, turned on Zazoore the blind
and then what went through in its mind..........