Come to me O night of sorrow,
fall upon mine eyes,
find me neath the weeping willow,
never gain to rise.
The bleeding hearts have tangled me,
I lay my spinning head,
I'm leaning closely into thee,
shy roses are my bed.
Soft petals of deep crimson,
glow in the dreamy silver light
a wreath of thorns beneath the moon,
bleed into the inky night.
All things bright and beautiful,
become old and often times decade,
but even for the setting sun,
it's a slow fade.
Shadows wrap me in their arms,
death holds out her gentle hand,
I float into the sleepy stillness
fading from this crippled land.
