Lost to the wilds of the beasts of behaviour
By way the crow flies my soul is a saviour

But here in the hard-pack of trails that twist
Tween tar-dripping trees in gales of mist
Where the wails of beasts are the sirens that call
To the beggars and tyrants that live in us all

Here there lies fearful, untold incantations
Behind us are footfalls of old iterations
And nearer and nearer we draw to the black
Of a swallowing future with no turning back

Curse all these vines!
Curse these unknowns!
Curse all the signs of the seeds that we’ve sown
And curse all the times that we’ve grown into men
Only to find little boys once again

Lost in the darkness
Lost to what glows
Lost even to skies, except for the crows
That caw at what cries in the forests below
Hunted by beasts on the prowl

We used to take time to sing to the stars
Now we just look up and howl