|
Spring won't come, the need of strife to struggle |
|
To be freed from hard ground |
|
The evenings mists that creep and crawl |
|
Will drench me in dew and so drown |
|
I'm the green man |
|
The green man |
|
Sol in prime sweet summertime |
|
Cast shadows of doubt on my face |
|
A midday sun, it's causing hues |
|
Refracting within the still lake |
|
I'm the green man |
|
The green man |
|
Autumn in her flaming dress |
|
Of orange, brown, gold fallen leaves |
|
My mistress of the frigid night |
|
I worship, pray to on my knees |
|
Winter's breath of filthy snow |
|
Be frosted paths to the unknown |
|
Have my lips turned true purple |
|
Life is coming to an end |
|
So says me, me wiccan friend |
|
Nature coming full circle |
|
Winter's breath of filthy snow |
|
Be frosted paths to the unknown |
|
Have my lips turned true purple |
|
Life is coming to an end |
|
So says me, me wiccan friend |
|
Nature coming full circle |
|
I'm the green man |
|
The green man |
|
I'm the green man |
|
The green man |
