When I rolled into oblivion it was like falling in a bone carriage,
Charging quickly down the grey road,
Or inky black like a quill tip settled into the realm of eternal night.
Oh, how I long for the wide range, the echoing red canyon,
The deep frothy rapids at its base,
The wet smell of lilac in spring,
The sound of whipping winter winds in the warm pine groves,
The hush of the air across white capped mountains.
The deep red spills across the mountains,
In the sky to the east, blue becomes a sea of dark,
A carriage takes me far, far into a night without moon or stars,
I bang against the door,
Watching the sun set behind me.
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