Curiosity can kill more than cats.
THE CONJURE BOX
(C. Robertson 2009)
- I went into an antique shop just to kill some time
Those days I was a little lost, I took what I could find
I found a little box, thirteen inches high
Closed with thirteen lock to protect what was inside.
The shopkeeper said to take it he gave it to me free
He couldn’t get it open he didn’t have the keys
I took it home and looked at it. I shook it and I tried
Unsuccessfully to open it, to get a look inside.
Chorus: Thirteen inches high, thirteen inches wide
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It was painted black and locked with thirteen locks
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I wish I’d never opened it, never looked inside
the Conjure Box.
- Finally I took a hacksaw…and cut off all the locks
And when they dropped away…I opened up that box
Inside was dark but empty…and I threw it on the floor
I was disappointed…I had hoped for something more
I left right then and found a bar…sat down and had a drink
“what a wasted afternoon” was all that I could think
When I got back to my room…something there had changed
Lots of things were missing…the air seemed dark and strange.
- the box was still there on the floor…lying where it fell
and I saw that I had opened up a doorway into hell
all my books were gone…all my dishes too
all my clothes were missing…my hats, my ties, my shoes
as I watched in horror…and slowly mounting fear
a chair slid right across the floor…into the box and disappeared
it swallowed the table…the paintings on the wall
but when the sofa disappeared…I ran into the hall.
Tag: I’m sitting on this hillside…and watching as my town
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Is slowly disappearing…into that box I found.