Envy lies naked on a rose --
Blindly, on bed;
Tonight, -- we bind to shed
Ourselves from purpose
And dread
That sough us from hearing, --
Fearing...
The silent touch of Moire.

It lies darkly on thy posture
Of many a figure
And requiem for my mockingbird, --
Those of many a love of my mockingbird,
(The Reaper
And my keeper
Of my very own
Requiem for a mockingbird)
Alone, all alone
We bind to shed...

Alas! Now Death
Comes as Nepenthe for my mockingbird,
(The only love
I've come to unravel the love
Of my mockingbird)
Now, breathing from her now, the breath
Of my heart leapt
Out from a mockingbird
And slept
As my eyes bind dead...

This is a requeim for a mockingbird, --
The Reaper
And my keeper
Of my very own
Requiem for a mockingbird,
Alone, all alone
We bind to shed
Ourselves from purpose and dread
That sough us from hearing, --
Fearing...
The silent touch of Moire...

The dead the dying, the disenchanted
all around they look and stare
Those that sent them into battle
close their eyes and no longer care

The dead the dying, the disenchanted
once had hope but now have none
They wait for those who would relieve them
their battle fought, their war now done