Dark are the woods and wild is the willow Swift is the silence passing over the meadow Blasted be the breeze that brings with it sorrow Calmed by the screams that cannot see the morrow
Nepenthe ease the pain that's as cold as the river Sun heat the day that makes my soul shiver Swift be the arrow from my bow from my quiver Sharp be its point and to black hearts deliver
For a darkness has taken this once prosperous land That which stood firm has crumbled to sand But that which forsakes shall soon pack up and flee For by arrow and blade these lands shall be free
The sorrow is planted in root, branch and see The vast cry of nature heeds me and mine steed We ride down the sorrow and with it we go To another dimension not above nor below
Life floods the woods and with joy weeps the willow Bird song breaks the silence that troubled the meadow A fresh scented breeze has blown out of sorrow An air of sweet laughter awaits for the morrow.