I had been wandering long
Came across your, oh so delicate, frame
Brittle boned you sat crouched and decayed
200 years or more
Wrinkled map on skin on floor
Warped window wood
Time had bent it good
Warped window wood
Life had bent it where it stood
Thought of you in the deep of my sleep
Thought of you in the depth of my night
Thought of you in the darkest of days
Lay your head down next to mine
Till your dust is the clay on which we lie
We are dug up and dusted
Yet again
Dug up and dusted
And sent on our way
Warped window wood
Time had bent it good
Warped window wood
Life had bent it where it stood
