These days come by walking through the leaves

The trees themselves fall away in the mist

Until sunlight hits my skin,

And the blood runs off my arms and off my wrists

From my hands, of my guilty trail

I stand at the jury’s mercy but yet I watch

From the woods, from the place called home

Carefully falling, down down down until the sharp

Jolt of stone

Forever should a blindfold cover my eyes

And from the blood of them should come

The price of my sight

Sold and auctioned off

Each of my senses lost

Until I fade back

Into the woods of oblivion

With my suitcase at my side