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Breathe the mist of the emerald shore
Where the ancient spirits soar
Walking through the silent heath
Where the roots of time lay underneath
Golden leaves begin to fly
Writing stories in the autumn sky
the wind will sing the lore
Echoing from the distant shore
No tears to cry
no swords to raise
Just the quiet of the endless days
Standing by the mossy stone
In this meadow
not alone
Seasons turn and rivers flow
Leaving only what the spirits know
the wind will sing the lore
Echoing from the distant shore
No tears to cry
no swords to raise
Just the quiet of the endless days
