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Repose
I spent another day in my tiny world
a day like many that I've seen,
but for the woman who destroyed the sun
to let the endless night begin.

And she was wearing in her golden hair
the thorns of the wilted rose,
to make a promise that she would never leave
and keep me always in repose.

So yet another age on the ancient land
I passed with her along my side,
scenting in her voice the beauty of it all
and in her winds I did confide.

My lawless heart that knew not pain
her words they left me all alone,
to leave me naked in the mountains of the North
on which I was her stepping-stone.

The hurricane she then unleashed on me
made little world cold and grim,
for all the beauty was taken from the land
and given readily to him.