Imagine me an earthly body,

repressed and unfree.

Visions of burning oaks,

cast there glow on me.

A prisoner of flesh and bone,

with such limited sight.

I cross myself for mortal fright and,

I won't die tonight.

I braved the winters fury,

I took all she may.

Her dangerous grip so icy,

by the willow trees' black shade.

I will go off soon,

to meet her again.

I blow a kiss to my mother the moon

and..

I won't die tonight.

What faint smile comes to the lips;

a peasant made a lord.

Once he had toiled with plow,

and now brandish a sword.

Slaughters his own wife and child,

forgets the life he'd known.

He bares his arse to the god who blessed him and,

He won't cry tonight.

Imagine him a whore of will,

See his bondage to a name.

Judge him for his cruelest actions,

not his days in the fame.

We walk a path of relative fortune,

when we smite those we left behind.

So set your hearts on the just and loving

and

Pray they won't die tonight.

Imagine you and me forgotten.

Such a simple way to be.

So far away from what were leaving.

A last effort just to be.

So far away from the stories of fortune,

of woe,

and of the great big sea.

Say a prayer to the guardian of truth and,

hope we die tonight.