The winter is cold
But not as cold as a hand
Covering your heart
The moon is dead
Like the light in your eyes
Fading and gone
Cast out over the hills
Wandering forest and field
Still no resolve when sorrow calls
And silently takes you from here
April showers
Held up inside
For weeks on end
The moon is empty
Memories have all
Passed you on by
Medicine is slowly running out
Your breath is shallow and frail
The doctor arrives
Closes your eyes
Places two pennies in their place
Places two pennies in their place
Summer shadows are long
The days collapse underneath
This coldness I've known
Is now my own
Silent path to you, dear
My own path to you, dear
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