My bed of feathers is torn apart.
I am in slumber upon the heap.
Many years ago this day,
life was fair and just and true.
Love proclaimed the land I held,
keeping at bay, all sorrow.
But at his highest, my prince fell ill
and grave evil swept the land.
With bleeding heart I fled on foot,
screaming to the hills for shelter;
but darkness trickles into minds
wherever they may hide.
Tumbling with agony I crawled
into refuge of a long lost home,
and as I lay dying upon the bed,
torn open by old wolves,
I cast a silent spell for hope.
One day may I live again.
The spell awaits the courageous,
who will rid and restore my land.
By simple act upon slumbering love,
cast back the shadows vale,
and mine own will be yours.
Will you awake me with a kiss?
