To the Days of Old

Across the field a shadow lures slow.

Someone died, someone I don't know.

The rocks point their finger

to the rose red sky,

while the sun is waving goodbye

to the days of old.

Sheltering your sacred soul

and watering your hope.

Now I turn my face to cry

while the moon sings this lullaby

to the days of old.

The lonely nights, the wishful sights

of children at play that never came your way.

And while the owl begins this tale to tell,

a star whispers a sweet farewell.

Sheltering your sacred soul

and watering your hope.

Now I turn my face to cry

while the moon sings this lullaby

to the days of old.

To the days of old...