The Rise Paroles

Light floods around
in a yellow shadow after night comes down
in a dull dumb swipe.
And all's white.
Fire painting on the pines,
and hawks above the timber-line,
and water weeping from the ice.

Heat is lost. Winter rocks into a lonely boxwood grove.
And quiet snowfall smothers all of the lawns
where the ladies coughed and cried,
"I don't want to be there when it's time!"

The dying stag is on his side.
The hunters are hiding, up on high.
The wind is beating through the briars.
Waves on the graves of the saints.
Dull grey as the sea pushes land away.
Dull ache when you wake.
Grey smoke shows the way you walk down there alone.
Down down down down
down down down down
down down
down down
down down
down down
down
down
ooooh.