We Aged A Hundred Years, And This

Real Tenderness Can't Be Confused, It's Quiet And Can't Be Heard.

Now No One Will Listen To Songs. The Prophesied Days Have Begun. Latest Poem Of Mine, The World Has Lost Its Wonder, Don't Break My Heart, Don't Ring Out.

You Will Hear Thunder And Remember Me, And Think: She Wanted Storms. The Rim Of The Sky Will Be The Colour Of Hard Crimson, And Your Heart, As It Was Then, Will Be On Fire.

You Do Not Know Just What You've Been Forgiven.

Rising From The Past, My Shadow Is Running In Silence To Meet Me.