The sky is heavy,
It seems the rain will fall,
My heart is sticky,
And my spirit is dull;

Bring me into the places,
Where the ancients have trodden,
I might find all traces,
Of treasures which were stolen;

I cannot see the future,
Nor the dreams which i had,
When around me is torture,
And pregnant mothers unclad;

Return the hopes of the lost,
And speak no lies from your lips,
Wipe our feet of this dust,
And refrain from using your whips;

Bring me to the wedding,
And lit candles on bridges rails,
Let roses be my bedding,
To hide my blood if this fails;

Seize from calling my name,
Your voice only hurts me more,
Take back your shame,
And give me healing to my sore;

So put a ring on my finger,
And lets be lost in the mist,
Quench my soul of this fever,
And take me to the grand feast.