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Demether
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Her Last Home (Church version)
Just like oil on canvassÅ Touch of red, mostly blackÅ Thick are the air and the fog that hide her from youÅ
WeepsÅ shadowÅ Cries Å sparkleÅ ÓShe sleeps, she sleepsÅÔ
Once in time, there she was, Standing by the willow tree, Longing for an old feeling, being hisÅ
Now she is like a torn flower, AloneÅ
Among the trees, and underneath the leaves, There is her last home, she lies there all aloneÅ
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