This sacred tree will grow through you The shape of your branches will start to show When the dawn of man fades All flesh will turn to hay Won't you lay the earth over us? Your soul is anchored at the roots As bursts of pagan colours bloom When the dawn of man fades All flesh will turn to hay Won't you lay the earth over us? Open up the larch wood, spruce wood door And let the stars spill on the forest floor When the dawn of man fades All flesh will turn to hay Won't you lay the earth over us? Sun grazing comets on galactic black bones Pleated with riddles of old dying stars Impacted planets on the heavens breath A glint in their eye of our birth and our death