Far from the reaches
Of the scythe
Bone turns to ash and reignites
An ember within a coffin
Of emptiness
Sinks into the ground
From the open mouth of the river
To the deep heart of winter
A severed cord from the heart
To the head
Where men fear to tread
Hidden from the world
For all to hide
Where the wolves come to die
Of the scythe
Bone turns to ash and reignites
An ember within a coffin
Of emptiness
Sinks into the ground
From the open mouth of the river
To the deep heart of winter
A severed cord from the heart
To the head
Where men fear to tread
Hidden from the world
For all to hide
Where the wolves come to die