Something's on the Move
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She wore a black tiara Rare gems upon her fingers And she came from distant waters Where northern lights explode To celebrate the dawning Of the new wastes of winter Gathering royal momentum On the icy road. With chill mists swirling Like petticoats in motion Sighted on horizons For ten thousand years The lady of the ice sounds A deathly distant rumble To Titanic-breaking children lost In melting crystal tears. Capturing black pieces In a glass-fronted museum The white queen rolls On the chessboard of the dawn Squeezing through the valleys Pausing briefly in the corries The Ice-Mother mates And a new age is born. Driving all before her Un-stoppable, un-straining Her cold creaking mass Follows reindeer down. Thin spreading fingers seek To embrace the sill-warm bundles That huddle on the doorsteps Of a white London Town. Oh, sunshine take me now away from here I'm a needle on a spiral in a groove. And the turntable spins As the last waltz begins And the weather-man says Something's on the move.