Ambrosia

Duration

4:18

Genres

New Folk

Lyrics

Sitting thinking, Thinking that I got a lot to think about. Leaving season, Colors bleeding leaving sentimental trees alone to figure out. We've been down this way before but I didn't think I'd take it this far this time. But it's fine. Walking circles backwards into hands of gentle time. And with each step I could feel it grow, That sense of displaced longing drawn from the memory of some forgotten place. The muted dreadful pangs of the young and hopeful laid to waste In the thorns and twisted tendrils that hung so low and tender by her perfect face. It was then that I looked up and saw here there. I couldn't help but lose myself in her eyes. I don't remember much except that she was beautiful, even in the clouded haze of disguise. she said "my boy you're far too young and naive to be pondering, upon the cruel and wicked ways of this life." I said "I'm caught between a rock and a hard place." she said "I know and I'm the woman that put you there, you're gonna have to find your own way out." she said "I thought you would have picked up that life's not fair." The air grew colder and the wind began to howl. As winter's grip took hold we sought shelter. I fell asleep tucked safely in the warmth of her soft-cotton presence but when I awoke she was gone. In her place lay the memory of haunted etchings spelled out on still falling sheets of rueful December snow... And the letters were all red... "Each small death that Winter brings Takes the Fall for most the things That we'd ever learned in Spring, Some or all are cursed to this thing."