Sift the loam of this old town
Where the heavy petals brown
Digitalis in the clay
Keeping all the ghosts away
Hold my hand in the red glow
Where the bitter hemlocks grow
Bind our souls in a tight knot
In this lonely village plot
Aconitum by the gate
Patience is the only trait
Trace the veins on a dead leaf
Sowing seeds of quiet grief
Hold my hand in the red glow
Where the bitter hemlocks grow
Bind our souls in a tight knot
In this lonely village plot
Copper wire and rusted nails
Walking down the frozen trails
Scent of cedar, scent of pine
Cross the forbidden border line
Hold my hand in the red glow
Where the bitter hemlocks grow
Bind our souls in a tight knot
In this lonely village plot
Blackened soil and winter frost
Counting everything we lost
Plant the bulb in the cold mud
Watered by a single flood
Roots go deep in the gray stone
No one walks this path alone
Wait for the summer to arrive
Keep the dying stem alive
Sallow bark and silver moss
Measuring the heavy loss
Latin names for every weed
Sowing just a single seed
Hold my hand in the red glow
Where the bitter hemlocks grow
Bind our souls in a tight knot
In this lonely village plot
Deep in the loam.
Crimson Root.
Stay with me.
