When autumn fades to winter,
When every good word has been spoken
To no avail,
When joy and regret have hardened
Into memory and despair,
And my light sinks low
Into her mother's embrace;
In those days I will wander the desert,
Numb to grace,
Waiting for the beast to devour me;
Now, I sit uneasily beneath my fig tree
Contemplating the shadow.
When every good word has been spoken
To no avail,
When joy and regret have hardened
Into memory and despair,
And my light sinks low
Into her mother's embrace;
In those days I will wander the desert,
Numb to grace,
Waiting for the beast to devour me;
Now, I sit uneasily beneath my fig tree
Contemplating the shadow.