Mourning Dress

If you could imagine
A castle drenched in sun
A place in which, many hands
Turn the Wheel of One

Once inside the gates
The meadows are aglow
Poppies, sage, peaches and rose;
Alchemy for a foe

It's morning, she's mourning
She is trying her best to hide
It's morning, she's mourning

“I don't want to go, I don’t want to go
I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go
I don't want to go under the oak tree, through the veil
I can go everywhere, everywhere”

Hands unbound, through space unrest
But the oak tree wears a mourning dress