The Sickle

The sickle falls From the sky Into the fields Fields of rye The sickle falls From the sky As the age Passes by The sickle grows From within Piercing through Through the skin The sickle grows From within Passing on To the next of kin The sickle falls From the sky As the age Passes by The sickle grows From within Passing on To the next of kin As the sun sets into the sea The ship of man will be free As the sun flickers out in the dark Leaving us without a mark As we all fall asleep There will be no more promises to keep No more day no more night No more wake no more light The sickle falls