On a cold and rainy hillside
misty Edward Gorey forest
My back against her tombstone
with my thoughts trapped in this forest
It may be I'll never leave here
It may be I'll never leave her...

Buried in the cold wet clay
Beneath the crowding Gorey trees
Rain lends tears to cried out eyes
As I sink back to my knees
Cold, hard, wet, the wretched stone
Cold, hard, wet, the wretched one...

As she sleeps inside her bedroom
Silver moonlight, golden hair
Watch her breathing, feel her closeness
Standing still, I only stare
Haunting my own memories
Anguishing my memories...

2:00 the service
3:00 I walk alone
3:30 it's just me and forest
Hill, forest, wretched stone.
9:00 dark - I still can't leave
9:00 lite - something less than I
goes home.