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A song, for his Mighty-Wightiness.
To the tune of "Even Flow" by Pearl Jam.
B-Wight, rests his head on a pillow made of concrete
Oh hopin', maybe he'll see a little better set of posts
And he heads down, faces that he sees are a little bit familiar
Oh Mirthies, he can't stand when they're off-topic and insane
Barrow-downs
Thoughts arrive like Balrog-wings
Oh, no-one knows
So they talk of them all day-ay-ay
Someday they'll
They'll talk pointy ears again
Ears again
Formless, streams of sad sounds against the morning now bereaved
Oh, never more to wake until the Sun and Moon are dead
Feelin', understands the weather or that Bombadil's on his way
Oh ceilings, cave in and fall when stupid rhyming words are said
Barrow-downs
Thoughts arrive like Balrog-wings
Oh, no-one knows
So they talk of them all day-ay-ay
Someday they'll talk pointy ears again
Typing hands, carry him away
Him away, him away
Yeah!
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But all the while I sit and think of times there were before
I listen for returning feet and voices at the door
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