The Wheels of Sorrow

The wheels of sorrow turn,
the flames of war rage high —
An eagle overhead sets forth a cry
warning of the enemy’s return.

Neil Diamond does not show fear.
Neil Diamond does not know fear.

By nature a Solitary Man,
None know much of our protector,
except his bravery knows no bounds,
and a broadsword seldom leaves his hands.
All we know is she for whom he pines,
the legend is as old as death,
told in shadows in whispered breaths,
the legend of his Sweet Caroline.

Neil Diamond pines for she
whom death shall not return.

The enemy’s eyes glow white in the distance.
Neil Diamond’s sword is unsheathed:

He leaps in a lightning flash,
the enemy is caught by surprise.
Vengeance spills from the monster’s veins
in our enemy’s demise.

The Victor stands tall, he holds
the severed head of our foe,
the recent dead, for all to see
the mark of victory,
But still, Caroline, he longs for thee.
He can’t be calmed by this victory,
It is his, but he can not see.
Beyond Sweet Caroline’s ghostly eyes.

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