| A forest of treetops
|
| Bends their neck before you
|
| The river sharp and wild
|
| Straightened its course
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| Strange eyes peer out
|
| From beneath a weeping willow
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| From doors high in the trunks
|
| Of the mightiest pines
|
| They watch the hills part ways
|
| To ease your passage
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| The breeze to blow back
|
| Against the ridge and the elms
|
| A gathering by the pathway
|
| Of oaks as old as age
|
| A million creatures watching
|
| As she slips through the forest
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| Her eyes could mak the world fall on its sword
|
| Between the ross that spread themselves around her
|
| Beneath the boughs that swept up to shade her
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| A million creatures watched as her tears filled the ocean
|
| She lay her down at the top of the mountain
|
| And was nailed upon the quarters
|
| She lay her down upon a stone
|
| And suffered the stroke
|
| Copper knife
|
| Give of life
|
| Life and death
|
| The honey of her breath
|
| It does not grow stale
|
| Only cold in its season
|
| Her brilliance subjugated the downfall of the tyranny of men
|
| The corpse-lords gnawing at their shadows
|
| The dead men tearing this sick world apart
|
| Let them gloat and in their greed
|
| The trodden die
|
| She lays between the Four Rivers
|
| And listens to their sweet song
|
| While the world churns and washes away
|
| To a dark corner of her All
|
| She listens to the sweet song of Rivers
|
| Naked with the stars rising up to embrace her
|
| She bleeds upon a stone and laughs
|
| She lay her down at the top of the mountain
|
| And was nailed upon the quarters
|
| She lay her down upon a stone
|
| And suffered the stroke
|
| Copper knife
|
| Give of life
|
| Life and death
|
| The honey of her breath |