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Type O Negative - Green Man

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Published on Jun 4, 2011

Spring won't come, the need of strife
To struggle to be freed from hard ground
The evening mists that creep and crawl
Will drench me in dew and so drown

I'm the green man
The green man

Sol in prime sweet summertime
Casts shadows of doubt on my face
A midday sun, it's caustic hues
Refracting within the still lake

Autumn in her flaming dress
Of orange, brown, gold fallen leaves
My mistress of the frigid night
I worship, pray to on my knees

Winter's breath of filthy snow
Befrosted paths to the unknown
Have my lips turned true purple?
Life is coming to an end
So says me, me wiccan friend
Nature coming full circle

I'm the green man
The green man

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