She left us in the night. Sleepless waves and sacred graves.

Only one thing's left, is to place her in the shallows,
And bronze the pieces that we've collected.
I'll move past my barriers, but I'm emotionless, to my prophetess.

To the cold and brash, extreme and ill tempered, hold close your gems.

You're my prophetess, as if you never left, and you always hold me all aware, your constant stare.

I visualize black soil and sun spots.
Make me a weapon, from the earth you tend.
I fear the trees and I fear the pasture. I fear abandonment.

This world is much too cold for you, so I'll be strong for you