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Far, where dawn never ends Away, are echoes the old lady sings Crying that years Years I've been trapped in this cave Inside, a candle consumed by its flame And all of the repenting words aside I desire to hurt you Desert the world you belong to In the forest where I lay My hungry heart My mellow mind All my thoughts They're weak in kind They're dreams Red is the mountain of mice Rotten on the hour of demise The pile, it resembles a crown And every roaring squel Is shame in disguise Coming clear And all that you wished for Is becoming right now Still it stays, in troubling ways The ire Far, where dawn never ends Away, the old lady sings For years I've been trapped in this cave A candle consumed by its flame
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