In a story so old, is a story of love told
as the little folks go nodding their heads.
A tale of a sin, it is has centuries been
the mystery that has, so many, misled.

Amidst the bristling leaves, to which they paid no heed
the lovers, they parried their foes.
In the wisdom of lust; for which one must crave so much,
the lovers, they deafened the shores.

The mighty they came, the mighty they slayed
and time whistled past them to flee.
It was a bruised sky that woke her,
and the weeping earth that cloaked her,
when she fell to knees and roared.

In a story so old, is a story of love told;
when purple mist dawns on us again,
about lovers who met, for those who forget,
that time doesn’t need to know tomorrow.