I have been wandering long
Came across your, oh so delicate, delicate frame
Brittle boned, you sat crouched and decayed
Two hundred years or more
Wrinkled map on skin, on floor

Warped window wood
Time had bent it good
Warped window wood
Life had bent it where it stood

Thought of you in the deep of my sleep
Thought of you in the depth of my night
Thought of you in the dar
Darkest of days

Lay your head down next to mine
Till your dust is the clay on which we lie
We are dug up and dusted
Yet again
Dug up and dusted
And sent on our way

Warped window wood
Time had bent it good
Warped window wood
Life had bent it where it stood

Thought of you in the deep of my sleep
Thought of you in the depth of my night
Thought of you in the dar
Darkest of days