In isolation I will forge god's strength and mighty hands and I will build a sepulchre
In isolation I will trace the stones with which I make this manor
With memories I will walk and lace the room with my softest words
With every dream of every love lost, I will plant my feet among these crevices
And I will bathe this sacred hold with tears of joy and light
But quieter still, I will embrace the shadows so contrite
Whether this grave is for me or for you, I will never know
But I have loved and carved and constructed this silent, sleeping grove
For every end that may come to pass, I hope you hear me say, every word and every sound by sleeping night and waking day