Bacchus Plateau

Down streets of childhood which i hold close to my heart toward the darkening months of the year Up the steppes to dark houses where i called upon friends Finally to the Court of Madrid now forgot But once we first tasted freedom on nights that yet still live Philosophers and fools once kept court here glaring upon a city below Stolen wine in a cache hid in a husk of a car Bargain beer had been bought by some older friend who wanted the company more than anything else Schemes would be dreamt but mainly lies and jokes Somewhere in the memory though the scarecrow speaks.