Ryhope

Smell of the wood, smell of the trees

Smell of the trees, echoes of the past

Rustling oaken leaves, oaken eddy which you cannot pass

Attracted by the secrecy, losing the notion of time

Relating intimacy to old legends, ancient fights

Dreaming about the roaring sky

About trees and thunder

Dreaming about forefathers

These secrets make me wonder

Stepping inside the mind of wood forlorn

Concentric circles, circles of the inner wood

Originate archetypes, the Celtic soldier and Robin Hood

Wandering in silence, wandering in myths

Step inside the history, live through the neolithic mood

Where the story starts

There the story ends

The mind is crooked

This realm it blends

Along the creek, leaving the realm of the world behind

From castles to battlefields, through space and time

Along the creek, leaving the realm of the world behind

From castles to battlefields, through space and time

Over woodlands and deeps, although the mind is blind

Unconsciousness feeds these places with archetypes