Camelot

She stood so proud; so tall and fair,
With walls of stone; a turret here, a tower there,
Rugged and white; strong and alone,
Strength and beauty - set in marble and stone.

Wondrous her halls; so full of light,
With rafters of doves; so graceful in flight,
Pillars and columns; bedecked in holly and gold,
Adorned with carvings; of stories yet untold.

At the height of her might; beyond compare,
With a thousand fields; that never went bare,
Paddocks of horses; all raring to go,
To gallop forth in company at horn's blow.

Her keep was hardy; an unshakable stronghold,
Doughty her men; like dragons of old,
Their shields were shiny; spears cold,
Tall were their helms; their stance bold.

Her townsfolk were goodly; helpful to all,
They loved all beings; both great and small,
Faithful and God-fearing; they answered the call,
And flocked to St. Stephen's; come winter or fall.

Seven levels high; the castle walls climbed,
Built with cunning, immense boulders aligned,
Cobblestoned streets; they winded up to the crest,
So wide & broad; braving seasons and time's test.

Atop the hill; and among the green,
A golden palace; for King and Queen,
Guarded by knights; known for chivalry,
At a round table; for the evening's revelry.

The warriors brave; a score strong,
Who fought on horseback; with lances long,
Hosts of forces; they commanded with care,
No matter the odds; they'd never despaired.

Brave deeds they did; and great reknown, won,
And knew not to rest till their quests were done,
Sworn to protect and succor the weak,
And flee treason; nor worldly battles seek.

The Excalibur-weilder sat upon the throne,
Noble his bearing; his goodliness grown,
Wise in judging; and unhastily roused,
Good King Pendragon; in Camelot he housed.

Merlin on his left; on his other, his Queen,
One a mighty spell-caster; other, most beautiful even seen,
Forever scheming and plotting, was, Morgana Le Fay,
So sing the minstrels; of when King Arthur held sway.

But alas for all good must come undone,
To folly they fell; each and every one,
For all of their prowess; the trap had been well set,
For even the best among them loved, what he couldn't get.

Thus began the war; a quarrel between friends,
Each wanting the Queen's hand; and refusing to bend,
Then came to fruit; the devices of Le Fay,
Too late for the good king; in Avalon, he lay.

Not much is remembered; of those days of yore,
Of Launcelot and Gawain; and the Knights' great chore,
Save in tales of faeries; recounted at children's beds,
And in dreamers like us; who relive them in our heads.

The Dreaming Tree

Standing here;
The old man said to me,
"Long before these crowded streets
Here stood my dreaming tree."
Below it he would sit,
For hours at a time,
Now progress takes away,
What forever took to find,
And now he's falling hard,
He feels the falling dark,
How he longs to be,
Beneath his dreaming tree.
Conquered fear to climb,
A moment froze in time,
When the girl who first he kissed,
Promised him she'd be his.
Remembered mother's words,
There beneath the tree,
"No matter what the world-
You'll always be my baby."
"Mommy come quick,
The dreaming tree has died."
The air is growing thick,
A fear he cannot hide,
The dreaming tree has died.


Oh, have you no pity?
This thing I do;
I do not deny it,
All through this smile,
As crooked as danger,
I do not deny.
I know in my mind-
I would leave you now;
If I had the strength to,
I would leave you up;
To your own devices.
Will you not talk?
Can you take pity?
I don't ask much-
But won't you speak, please?


From the start,
She knew she had it made,
Easy up 'til then,
For sure she'd make the grade.
Adorers came in hordes,
To lay down in her wake,
Gave it all she had,
But treasures slowly fade.
Now she's falling hard,
Feels the fall of dark,
How did this fall apart?
She drinks to fill it up.
A smile of sweetest flowers,
Wilted so and soured,
Black tears stain the cheeks,
That once were so admired.
She thinks when she was small,
There on her father's knee,
How he had promised her,
"You'll always be my baby."
"Daddy come quick,
The dreaming tree has died;
I can't find my way home,
There is no place to hide;
The dreaming tree has died."


Oh, if I had the strength to,
I would leave you up;
To your own devices.
Will you not talk?
Can you take pity?
I don't ask much-
But won't you speak, please?


Take me back, take me back, take me back...


Save me please!
 

-Dave Matthews & Stefan Lessard