Hear the satyrs calling, crying as the windy day is dying
Over the rocks
They're eyeing
See the satyrs leap and scramble
Through the briar and brake and bramble
In the glow
Of the red sun sunken low
Without head or heart to borrow
Any care
Of all sadness, of all sorrow
Unaware
Without head or heart to borrow
Any care
Of all sadness, of all sorrow
Unaware
Without head or heart to borrow
Any care
Of all sadness, of all sorrow
Unaware