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And as they say, grief is only able to possess
The rotting body clad in ancient clothes
Is left behind with awave of the hand
I have gone away, the bed is cold and empty
Trees bend their boughs toward the earth
And nighttime birds float as black faces
It was the hand reaching out through the mirror
Unknown and scarred by life the luring eyes, you had neverseen
You have nothing more to find, you have nothing more to loose
The cold season drifts over the land
They huddle in the brown corners, some would settle for less
The castles were all empty, asleep, long awaiting their king
Beckoning round the bend
Amidst the forest one would hear that I had been there
Draped within a fate I could not change, and always welcoming Winter's Epilogue

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