Walk With Me O Winged Mother by Xanthochroid Lyrics
Warm drops of petrichor
Stream from the trees
To the forest floor
Try to find me
In the morning mist
Neath the canopy
Where once we kissed
Where I am held by evergreens
Silently
With their oaken eaves
I am where
The scent hangs in the air
Where I drank the dew
And met your stare
Where you can sleep amongst the leaves
Peacefully
Dream of simple things
I should have followed you
O, the warm, warm forest floor...
Where I'll dream no more
I felt the outstretched arms of Death
Reaching 'tward my heaving chest
But in the Orchard I was kept
Safe within that thorny crest
Though through the mist the Reaper crept
Row by row, ’til none were left
There I slept amongst (the leaves)
Held silently by evergreens
With giant, arching, oaken eaves
I slept and dreamt of simple things, so trifling
Of wishes whispered silently
Of when I saw her through the trees
O dreams are real until we wake
Beneath this curtain’s heavy weight
The chains of sleep I cannot (shake)
Skies may thunder, Erthe may quake
But never could they from me take
Her tender spirit, the one for whom I ache
Stream from the trees
To the forest floor
Try to find me
In the morning mist
Neath the canopy
Where once we kissed
Where I am held by evergreens
Silently
With their oaken eaves
I am where
The scent hangs in the air
Where I drank the dew
And met your stare
Where you can sleep amongst the leaves
Peacefully
Dream of simple things
I should have followed you
O, the warm, warm forest floor...
Where I'll dream no more
I felt the outstretched arms of Death
Reaching 'tward my heaving chest
But in the Orchard I was kept
Safe within that thorny crest
Though through the mist the Reaper crept
Row by row, ’til none were left
There I slept amongst (the leaves)
Held silently by evergreens
With giant, arching, oaken eaves
I slept and dreamt of simple things, so trifling
Of wishes whispered silently
Of when I saw her through the trees
O dreams are real until we wake
Beneath this curtain’s heavy weight
The chains of sleep I cannot (shake)
Skies may thunder, Erthe may quake
But never could they from me take
Her tender spirit, the one for whom I ache