This night I got lost
In a field of lilies
Some white and broad
Some red and fine
Both are for death
One for mourning
One for killing
And as the moon's light slowly fades
As the morning sun rises
And red becomes pink
Becomes yellow
Becomes blue
I feel the last remaining moth land on my arm
There is a peace in knowing it wont last much longer
And neither will I

The glen where felled men slept
Where the creek’s deep bed trembled, reeled
Where the green ferns, restless, crept
Where the breezes blew, flew, wheeled
Where the trees, the sweet elms wept
Where the gentle red wrens nested
Where the elks, when freed, then stepped
Where the fleet, serene deer rested
Where the scented bells were kept
Where the jeweled, fresh dew met green
The glen where felled men slept,
Where men were never seen