There was death in his eyes
And a smile on his face
As he walked through the ashes
And danced with fate
His hair it was black
Like a storm crow in flight
His cautanance pale
Like the moon full and bright
He spoke to me softly
Of the things he had seen
And the sky it grew darker
Or so it did seem
The wind it did howl
Through the trees in the glen
He stopped his tale suddenly
And his face became grim
The rain fell gently
From the clouds up above
And washed out the pain
He wore like a glove
The sun it shone down
On the man in the street
And he vanished from sight
As I started to weep
There was life in my eyes
And a grin on my face
As I walked through the ashes
Arm in arm with fate.

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all text Copyright Cary Preston Richards, 1999