And read again the hours that so silently have gone,
And it seems that eighty years beneath my feet did glide,
That I am old as winter, that maybe you have died.
The tale of all times, nothings that now exist no more;
While the wind with clumsy fingers softly fumbles at the blind
And sadly spins the fibre of the story in my mind...
Your eyes are full of tears, and your fingers long and cold; About my neck caressing your arms you gently ply
And it seems you want to speak to me yet only sigh.
And both our lives are joined in that supreme embrace...
Forget the joy that was, but that nevermore will come,
Forget how after an instant you thrust my arms aside,
For now I'm old and lonely, and maybe you have died.
- An Angels Funeral
- Spirit Soldier
- Paradise Beyond
- The Ending of our Yesterd..
- Past Shadows
- Yesterday's Reprise
- Sacred Divinity
- Burden Of Time