The Tale Of

I sat alone waiting for death Under my blanket of snow A resting place for my companions Massacred in their approach But heaven don't speak with a wretch Unlike the books that I've read Now I sit by the fire, cursed with my life And images I can't forget Lo, be my curse History in reverse Selfless hands, fellow cries They will scar me in time And have I heard things in the night? The shadow men in their disguise Well they're whispering terrible things Struck echoes with medicine eyes And I get lost in circles Tripping over people And who I used to be Comes weeping out of my seams Well I may as well call it my home here I hear the echoes calling I hear the anger in me I walk the tightrope to the edge of The cavern in the trees