As I travelled Westward from Eden,
came to a side in the road,
all the cigerettes and glasses and all the fire,
burning ash it filled my mind
and heavied in my soul.
The birch held the wreckage like a lover
warm and true with it's embrace.
Held on through the night holding fire
and it's life until the sun could come shining
and takes it's place.
The birch stood charring from the outside
it's intentions holding true
died that very night amongst the silver
in the light it sent a shiver
I welcomed and I knew.
And I knew that it was me
though I did not know til now.
And I knew that I would die
if I did not leave this town.
There's no problems with being a martyr.
If in the name is something true.
What if that you think is something hiding
in your drink and it truly does not believe in you?
This thought captured in my mind now
Drove me from garden to the road.
As I straightened down the line leaving the omen,
from my mind in the rear view
the couple drenched in gold.
And I knew that it was me
if I did not take control.
And I knew that I would die
if I did not let you go.
And the twilight was worn and frayed
showing crimson patchwork skies.
somewhere down the line
I left a little piece behind of everything
I ever was inside.
And I knew that it was me
as if waiting for the call
and I knew that I would die.
Yes, I knew that I would die.
Oh, I knew that I would die.
If I did not lose it all.
If I did not lose it all.

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