In the valley the girl waits. at the back of the caravan. wears a dress made of red wool. for a night on the town with her man. he is good to her. he takes care of her.
At the end of the road he calls everyone home. and the fire will consume us striking through to the bone. at the end of the road you will soon hear him call.
I steal a look between the blinds. I unwind. she sleeps in comfort in my arms. She is plain but she is mine. Our child is silent but awake. I run my hands through his hair.
There's a shred of guilt in every one of us. And a pain we felt in watching you all suffer. Now the time has come. To make amends. To everyone. To pay the price.
Hole up kid there's a storm comin' down. work those fingers to the bone. you got grit. that's a fact. you build 'em up just to know 'em all down. . Dig a hole that goes down deep in the ground.
We set out for sea with icicles in our beards. where the wind bit like dog's teeth. and the sea swept our ship up like the hand of a god that had been enraged.
Fourteen years have passed since that day. Your stories are the same but the ends have all changed. You carried on like you were some type of god. Some things will never change.