Antiquity of Horror
Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2006 4:53 am
I have always loved old things that have survived for decades
So when I found this little shop I just had to buy something
A table, I spy, I bet decades made
To antiquities I guess I will always cling.
The man at the shop this table was a hundred years old
It was built in Germany and remained there for quite a while
But in the future it was brought to the states, where it's beauty could be seen by us and it's spell to one of us could take hold
The make of this old relic will never go out of style.
It's like when I first saw the table, to me it called my name
As if only to me the table wanted to belong
When I first saw the table I must admit I kind of felt the same
As I walked by the table it's like I heard a ghostly song.
I set the table in the middle of the room when I got it home
I go to find some polish as I want to bring out a glossy shine
Never being told the last the last person that owned it was of a Jewish home
Not knowing upon this very table they wined and dined.
I return to the table, but the closer I get I hear sighs and moans
They sound like cries of persecution and anguish
Oh, the chill emitted by these moans and groans
As this makes me think of the holacaust,those poor people,to set them free for them would be my wish.
So when I found this little shop I just had to buy something
A table, I spy, I bet decades made
To antiquities I guess I will always cling.
The man at the shop this table was a hundred years old
It was built in Germany and remained there for quite a while
But in the future it was brought to the states, where it's beauty could be seen by us and it's spell to one of us could take hold
The make of this old relic will never go out of style.
It's like when I first saw the table, to me it called my name
As if only to me the table wanted to belong
When I first saw the table I must admit I kind of felt the same
As I walked by the table it's like I heard a ghostly song.
I set the table in the middle of the room when I got it home
I go to find some polish as I want to bring out a glossy shine
Never being told the last the last person that owned it was of a Jewish home
Not knowing upon this very table they wined and dined.
I return to the table, but the closer I get I hear sighs and moans
They sound like cries of persecution and anguish
Oh, the chill emitted by these moans and groans
As this makes me think of the holacaust,those poor people,to set them free for them would be my wish.