St. Petersburg

He was just a servant in the kingdom
A place of birth where someday he would fall
Was laid to rest upon a bloody Sunday
Hurried inside the empty palace walls
When he fell before the ancient ruler
Victims for the freedom of the mass
Oh we hear of those who came before us
Shape of futures with them, broken hands
I have longed to find her in the forest
Dressed in white and ivy by her side
The autumn clouds will gather all around her
Bringing all the fogs she needs to hide
She had many lives to live through seasons
Hidden in the curtains of the room
The golden sun will guide her through the winter
A daylight sense upon her sleeping true