I'm unaware of a response
From my errant dark red soul
Too deep to be spoken aloud
I bury a word right in my heartFrost etched the tall windows
I have been cold for a long time
Borne upon winters shouldersThere are wolves here, many of them
I am staggered at their hatred of meI lie in complete fear
I call the moths to tend me
I forget the form of my sinsAnd drained of motion, the air itself avoids me
And void of notion, unable to perceive
Mouth barely open, almost fearing to breathe
And there is no other sound at allJust there, to the left, his shadow rose
I always knew he was coming
Takes the vacant chair beside me
With golden hands he moved the hair from my face
Songwriters
AARON STAINTHORPE, ANDREW DAVID CRAIGHAN, HAMISH GLENCROSSPublished by
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