The autumn's nigh as it comes rushing Through wind, frost and fading light To bring the scent of husk and carcass Of long-faring and now absent life Longing for the joy of days before sickness Turned his countenance frail and white The mist and leaves of the turning season His only gate to the outer sites
Gone one day were the voice and breathing That once brightly filled the room And with them the hands and enigmas That lit the world unbeknownst to doom Bound to the depths by a twist of fate No more games as the hands now decay Crushing of bones, then stillness, silence Grief and winter before its day
Fevered euphoria in its glowing eyes Shivering at dusk, longing as it sighs For the sun of days gone by
On the thirtieth day it set away Far beyond the bright-glassed panes Chasing the great race of the stars Up fields of frost and creek without end Through greenest woods and burial fields Gazing at the stones and marble names Beneath slumberous streams of white Toward the vastness of moonlit skies
On the night of November's third day He wakes in silence to an unknown hush To footsteps below and echoing sighs To the stench of earth lain cheek by jowl With things long hidden and decayed Of digging deep, as night within night A soul unearthed from far deep down Its love and light skeletal but aliveTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
