Call of the grim
My nearing grave
Earth's cold temple
The turning wave
Trees abide
In the sound of air
Jaded soul
Are you going my way

I came once I heard you sing
I came once I saw you
Your presence within my love
Weight did not bind me

Voice from the mire
The calling head
His mouth of birds
Sound in white rain

Daybreak
Stand clear now
 [bad word] the calm [bad word]