I have to come to our spot, my love
Barefoot I walk, clad as the Satyr
In clothes made of leather,
Dusted of earth
I have come past the water, my love
Cold, frigid and cleansing
Limbs numb, unforgiving
My body submerged
I have come to the gypsies, my love
Loud music and dancing
Women singing and prancing
Living in tents for a hearth
I have come to the campfire, my love
Feel heat warming, clothes drying
Still the heat may be lying
There is a coldness lingering still
I have come back to our spot, my love
I hold the rings for our wedding
I hope to find you here medding
And give them to you, I will
But you are not there
And I see you, walking with another
But you are not there
And I see you, walking with another
But you are not there
And I see you, walking with another
But you are not there
And I see you, walking with another
The wedding rings fall
But my heart reaches the ground first
The rings bounce and roll
But my heart, shatters´┐¢
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