So the roses in the hall lie withering, while the bride cries for the right stride
Where before he felt his heartbeat quickening, now the groom tries to deny his vows
Crisp morning and leaves lie dead on the ground
Where now this longing disease perpetuates drought
Fair seasons have turned
Sweetened shrouds all burned
Now the cloaks and poses wheeze as they give in
There's a bright light in the foul night
Such a perfect time to redefine the will
With the quiet mind, watch the lifeless bow