Calla

Under the haze of a sepia sun
The water witcher and the flame
Haired one
Rowed down the river to Tintern Falls
To meet the perfect end to it all
The shouts of voices the cries of birds
A hundred warnings not heeded or heard
One in the other already drowned
Lost in the rushing churning sound
And Calla she was a deep running stream
Pure and secret and strange
And he was to her a bright shining moon
To light up the dark of her days
And when it was over just one remained
Forever silent to what had been gained
How to explain the madness away
For love or for death what was done
That day
And Calla she was a deep running stream
Pure and secret and strange
And he was to her a bright shining moon
To light up the dark of her days
Calla you gonna be you gonna be
The death of me
Calla you gonna be you gonna be
The death of me