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Aquoreal

de Orenda

Oh, lord of the lost
Lead to the swamp
In half-light
Where our shadows move
Black water pools
And spanish moss

This is when you feel us most
When the light slips away
And the old songs carry
In the wind

Bound by the great oak
Remains of home
We are the long-gone
Oh whispering ghosts
Days long ago
And silver-grey hair

This is when you feel us most
When the light slips away
And cicadas begin
To sing

You feel the eyes
The waiting eyes
Our shape takes root in half-light

You feel the eyes
The watching eyes
Blinking along the edge of darkness

This is when you feel us most
When the light slips away
And the old songs carry

This is when you feel us most
When the light slips away
And the old songs carry
In the wind

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