Then I was young and unafraid And dreams were made and used and wasted There was no ransom to be paid No song unsung, no wine untasted
But the tigers come at night With their voices soft as thunder As they turn your hope apart As they turn your dreams to shame
And still I dream he'd come to me That we would live the years together But there are dreams that cannot be And there are storms we cannot weather
I had a dream my life would be So different from the hell I'm living So different now from what it seemed Now life has killed the dream I dreamed ...
A bit of a warmup for upcoming commissions that I need to finish. I was going to add ghostly lions prancing about this lovely nighttime scene, but..in the end this piece is still unfortunately unoriginal. If you cannot tell, the white powdery speckles are snow. ♥