All rise, behold the famous disappearing man

Who comes in crimson robes but leaves in yellow rags

Hear now his ancient call to union

And the furious communion of the maiden and the stag



In the dark, in the dawn, with your wedding dress in tatters

You reveal the yearning desert in the country of your skin

How you ache for the fawn, and he says it doesn't matter

But it does and he's gone, and you know that he won't be back again



Long now he's borne his heavy armor resting

Only in his sorrows and his noble-nosed regrets

Some light, some momentary solace

And he'll ride off gay and lawless as the moment that you met



So the night comes and goes, and there's no one there to nurture

But yourself and you know that you've nothing left to lose

Will you stand in the road waiting for another searcher

Will you weep soft and low in the voice that your mother used to use



Springtime the swain came green and hero like

A friendly gypsy storm on tender lilies, hale and blaze

Late fall, the boatman rowed you grimly

Down a canyon dark and empty in a stale and dreary haze



At the end of the year when the cliffs rise up behind you

And the stream runs in circles from the chasm to the core

And the sun comes in tears 'cause the gardener did not find you

Will you bloom bright and fierce, will you know you don't need him anymore