If birds were to sing the faun's song,
It would be sung with only frozen lips,
Coughed and spluttered,
With death to glory,

The sky can laugh in response,
And he can breath over the broad plains too,
Try to trick the naïve doves,
With only his cacophonous laughter,

And yet those high above,
With their fickle weights,
Would see to bound his fate to Hell,
But first dethrone all hope,

But then the eagles swarmed,
You flocked back, my dear,
You perched on the faun
To give him that courage,

He sings, to this day,
Broad, light and gleaming,
Dancing in the hills
In the wild brilliance of your shadow,

And though fiery passion
Breeds death to consumption,
Your heart stood still
To await his call.

You, my dear.
Yes, you.
Don't stand back,
Refrain from retreat,
The sun knows your frown,
It knows your thoughts,
The skies want your heart,
But they know not your soul,
Don't fear, my dear.
Don't fear.

I'm coming for you, and for the old faun's song.

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