Thunder roll, storm cry. I want to live deep in the dark heart of the wood. You know that place near the running water? That's where I want to be.
Will you, won't you, come with me? I don't mind, I don't mind. It's where I'm going anyway.
(Spoken:) There is a place in the woods, past the wailing trees and path where the gorse grows tall. Here I shall have my home, with a kitchen for my crystals and herbs. My heart free in a wild orchard, at night I will hunt with the birds.
Thunder roll, storm cry. I want to live deep in the dark heart of the wood; The place my mother told me about in all those stories, when I was a child. Maybe I went there once before in a dream. Sure I can get back, sure I can get back, sure I can get back if I try.