Lea of spring
Of autumns air...

We were raised by your many hands
To hold and guide us all...

At the end of his laughters
Returned home to empty chairs...

If we forgo pursuing truth
Then we allow ourselves to die...

“Your friend is there
Within the walls...

Never forget those you have killed
Never avert your eyes from death...

It is the fate of the kind
If they wish it to be...

Eros had said
That him, I would dread...

Once for the witches rabbit hole
And twice for the foxes hymn...

Listen, do listen
The muse in the air...