A path that leads us through hollow trees
Were clenched in voices the sap proves its moistness
Failing sunspots and light deprived
We walk over fires pinching pines
As pure as love as mystic myth
The crescent inscribes a solstice a pharaoh under eastern skies forms the night
Circle creationists this pheasants and worms they perch down my throat
Worms down my throat

Pacing through roads and roots intertwine
Meet dead winter snow. Exchanging hellos
Potions they make, make me tired
Diluted in powder the red separates they mix it with wine
Illusions in white
I wait for the urn it takes time
Gasping for air they just smile
I'm weak my body goes numb
I think Ive had enough