[words & music: Barthold]



Trees cut the wounded sky 

Of autumn it hangs dead 

Clouded in silver 

Of autumn it hangs dead 



Like a voice from within begging me to stay 

The same as the one telling me to get away 



Deep in my heartache 

Scattered like leaves lies love?s light 

Gather me up 

And hold me through the night 



Like a voice from within begging me to stay 

The same as the one telling me to get away 



Your beauty is a wound in me 

Serene in virginity