The Fall
wondering around, lost in the dark
it’s getting cold, ain’t no walk in the park
the wood in a ring of fire burning
a fire gone wild, can’t tell where it’s turning
it’s a primal delight, it’s the dream drifting
a new dawn, a veil of fog, gently lifting
like a palette of of paint
rapidly changing, the colours, so faint
it’s the moon, peaking out
i grind my teeth and I shout
it’s a call form the wild
the desperate voice, of a starving child
far away through the woods, calling
it’s the end of the heat, and it’s winter falling
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