The Rabbit Knows

It is well the way you play,
Your song is good, the words they say,
The things that dwell within your heart;
But you must hear before you start,
The rabbit knows.
He knows your style.
He knows your kind.
He knows your soul.
He knows your mind.
Take up your tool, that makes the sound,
And weave your spell, but in the ground,
The rabbit knows.
He'll come to you and on his toes.
He'll reach to you and whisper woes.
His eyes will watch all that you do,
Until the end and when you're through,
The rabbit knows.
He winks his eye, says with a smile,
I know the song, I know the style,
And it brings pain, for souls to slay,
But there will come a final day,
The rabbit knows.
All that you've done so unaware,
the spell you wove is your own snare,
you are the prey of the cunning hare,
the rabbit knows.

© Harley

Harley welcomes your comments!