The last bird from a scattered flock 

seeks shelter in a tree 

alone amongst the lonely woods 

he will cry when noone hears 

he will fall when noone cares 

palls of grief hanging in the clouds 



what must go wrong, so that we see 

there's not enough to make us stop 



we are the devils of a dying land 

what evil spirit holds us here 

we wear a careless mask 

making friends with death 

we are devils of a dying land 



mankind took all nature's pride 

mercy out of sight 

demons dark around us swarm 

forests' last time 

the short last sound of singing birds 

we don't know what it means 

will we ever know? 



a world where iron shells 

can kill men's blood 

a world of emptiness, 

a dying land  









    



Neglect me, lose me 

only give me leave, 

unworthy as I am 

to follow Your grief 

Therefore the moon, 

the governess of floods, 

pale in her anger 

washes all the air 

Fall in the fresh lap 

of the crimson rose 

The human mortals want 

their winter cheer 

Love takes the meaning 

in love's conference 

So that but one heart 

we can make of it 

The stary welking 

covers You anon 

with dropping fog 

as black as acheron 

Thorny anger, be not seen, 

come not near our fairy-queen 

For night's swift dragons 

cut the clouds 

I tary for the comfort of the day 

Fair love, I see, I forgot our way 

Stand still, You ever moving spheres, 

in misery noone will here 

And they shoot chillness to my heart 

I can't break the midnight sigh