Far, where dawn never ends
Away, are echoes the old lady sings
Crying that years
Years I've been trapped in this cave
Inside, a candle consumed by its flame
And all of the repenting words aside
I desire to hurt you
Desert the world you belong to
In the forest where I lay
My hungry heart
My mellow mind
All my thoughts
They're weak in kind
They're dreams
Red is the mountain of mice
Rotten on the hour of demise
The pile, it resembles a crown
And every roaring squel
Is shame in disguise
Coming clear
And all that you wished for
Is becoming right now
Still it stays, in troubling ways
The ire
Far, where dawn never ends
Away, the old lady sings
For years I've been trapped in this cave
A candle consumed by its flame
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