Oh, Lady of Wood, with your waist so thin, carved from the maple, carved from the sin. I’ve held you close when the nights were cold, weaving the silver to turn it to gold. The seasons are turning, the green turns to brown. But you keep the fire when the sun goes down. You never leave me, you never stray. This is your way. We walked the roads where the kings have passed, sang for the shadows that the castles cast. A hollow chest with a heart of wire, waiting to kindle the ancient fire. And now you speak with the voice of the storm! You break the silence where you were born! It’s not a whisper, it’s a roar! Like the ocean crashing on the door! The seasons are turning! The green turns to brown! But you keep the fire when the walls fall down! When the walls fall down! Oh, Lady of Wood...
