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tell me where am I at home

this is no ground to walk alone

where will i come to rest at last

and end the search for whatever

as i step upon the fire	i

drown in deepest sea

and i know the prophets will never speak with one voice

catching at the flickering lights

reaching for the feverish sights

I try to get hold of what is born

in an empty space somewhere in me

for this is a world in grey

ninetynine windows in this room

each opening to a different doom

all weakly lit by the same moon

and veiled in unreal waves of mist

as i step upon the fire i

drown in deepest sea

and i know the prophets will never speak with one voice

in ninetynine enlivening wells

beware of manifold putrid smells

silently rising out of the deep

in ninetynine of a hundred nights

for this is a world in grey