Cold mud clings to my worn out boot
Deep in the soil the old vines root
The sky is grey like a rusted plate
Walking this road to an open gate
Hold the soulstone tight in your hand
Walking alone through a broken land
Heavy the weight and the wind is cold
Stories of grief that are never told
Iron bells ring in the hollow square
Bitter wet salt in the winter air
Black water rises in every street
Stone on the pavement beneath my feet
Hold the soulstone tight in your hand
Walking alone through a broken land
Heavy the weight and the wind is cold
Stories of grief that are never told
Your eyes are tired and your coat is thin
Letting the damp and the darkness in
One steady step for a mile of pain
Counting the beats of the falling rain
Hold the soulstone tight in your hand
Walking alone through a broken land
Heavy the weight and the wind is cold
Stories of grief that are never told
Old walls are crumbling into the clay
Turning the gold of the morning grey
A copper coin for a dead man's fare
Cold as the ice in a winter glare
The light in the glass starts to glow
Watching the river of memory flow
A touch on the shoulder a hand on the wrist
Finding a path through the heavy mist
Farewell to ruins and ghosts of the past
Hold to the hope that the light will last
Wrap up the wool and tighten the lace
Looking for peace in a ruined place
Hold the soulstone tight in your hand
Walking alone through a broken land
Heavy the weight and the wind is cold
Stories of grief that are never told
Keep it tight, boy.
Just a bit further.
Home now.
