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I can recall the waves on the shore |
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That battered the beach with water and more |
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Full in the air and deep in the ground |
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I was not alone for miles around |
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Eyes in the greenest jungles of mine |
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Would wander around the vines |
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And in the plains the wind and the rain |
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With seasons would come and go |
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And how my gardens grew |
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How they would twist all through the air |
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But gone is the fire that warmed me at night |
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That kept me alive and kept me bright |
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I've drifted far from the colors above |
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The faces of friends and the ones that I loved |
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And how my gardens grew |
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How they would twist all through the air |
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I cry for the mountains, sing for the shore |
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And sway for my lost allure |
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The cold and the darkness have swallowed me up |
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And famished my love for this life |
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So I moan in this desolate home and sing my sacred songs again |
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Let the grinding stones come feast on my bones |
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I'll cry for more |
