[words & music: Barthold]

Trees cut the wounded sky

Of autumn it hangs dead
Clouded in silver
Of autumn it hangs dead


Like a voice from within begging me to stay
The same as the one telling me to get away


Deep in my heartache
Scattered like leaves lies love?s light

Gather me up
And hold me through the night


Like a voice from within begging me to stay
The same as the one telling me to get away


Your beauty is a wound in me
Serene in virginity