A glance shaken from stone
He hoards the dawn
Withered carcass washed by a turning flame
His roar is leaf smoke through this mesh of air
The wind a howling horn
That scalds his frightened lichen beard
None care to dream what hands could field this folded frame
So deep beyond the kenning of the day
So deep beyond the kenning of the day
So deep beyond the kenning of the day
But muted wood retains his borrowed song
Gripped in its green-soaked brow
As if the long ages had not loosened the link
A scent of rain on fur
Claws gashing at the grey ghosts
Of a loveless glare
Deep
So deep
So deep beyond the kenning of the day
So deep
So deep beyond the kenning of the day
What then was meant is dying
To what human folly sees
A lion like a lamb
Amongst the trees
What then was meant is dying
To what human folly sees
A lion like a lamb
Amongst the trees
Deep
So deep
So deep beyond the kenning of the day
What then was meant is dying
To what human folly sees
A lion like a lamb
Amongst the trees