The Tale Of

I sat alone waiting for death
Under my blanket of snow
A resting place for my companions
Massacred in their approach

But heaven don't speak with a wretch
Unlike the books that I've read
Now I sit by the fire, cursed with my life
And images I can't forget

Lo, be my curse
History in reverse
Selfless hands, fellow cries
They will scar me in time

And have I heard things in the night?
The shadow men in their disguise
Well they're whispering terrible things
Struck echoes with medicine eyes

And I get lost in circles
Tripping over people
And who I used to be
Comes weeping out of my seams

Well I may as well call it my home here

I hear the echoes calling
I hear the anger in me
I walk the tightrope to the edge of
The cavern in the trees