Vārdi: The Man-Eating Tree. Vine. Of Birth For Passing.

To escape
With the rays of the sun
And the mist of cold
Climb into one
Last view
Of a garden
Dressed winter's cleanest
White

Would it ring true
Here, at the last mile to walk
Would it ring true
Here, at the breaker of the new
Would it ring true
Here, between birth and passing
That this breath
- Like a sparrow -
Was meant to flee
The grasp of winter's cold
Life would barter loss
For a new flickering of hope
And quarrels for calm peace
All Dressed winter's cleanest
White

Would it ring true
Here, at the last mile to walk
Would it ring true
Here, at the breaker of the new
Would it ring true
Here, between birth and passing
That all this breath like a sparrow
Was meant to flee into
A trade of birth for passing
Without a shadow of doubt
All words were heard
And nothing was in vain
In this trade of Birth for passing
And the garden whispered freedom
Said "You are free now, fly."