Lyric

Deep within the veins of sleeping wood

A crimson gate unwinds, misunderstood

Devouring lives of travelers through time

Quickening now, the blind flower’s prime

Memories of those who ne'er were born

Through the bloodlines, tattered and torn

I am not the seed, nor the wind that blows

Only dwelling here, where the cycle goes

Ah, who is blooming on the withered bough?

Ah, scatter your fragrance, here and now

Within the darkness, voices call and meet

A night banquet where the dead leaves retreat

Spreading wide beneath my weary feet

Are these halos, or where judgments meet?

Painting colors in the crevices of bone

The flower of memory has overblown

Ceaseless pulse, to where does it flow?

Between the times that only shadows know

I shall speak now, never to decay

Only dwelling here, then fading away

Ah, who is blooming on the withered bough?

Ah, scatter your fragrance, here and now

Within the darkness, voices call and meet

A night banquet where the dead leaves retreat

(Only dwelling...)

(Only returning...)

The flower blooms in the hollow