The battlefields are covered up with roses
Where we go, a Viking ship is sailing
through the sky.
We walk together but how far are we? We only
Know each other’s company, how many poses
Do we take in turn, to not let go?
The Spanish guitar whispers about death
But does so calmly as we watch the sun set burn.
And feel, you say, feel this fading evening flow.
The gentle, heavy load.
Moving on across the high grass fields
Till darkness comes, we face
The final forking of the unknown road.