From tender years you took me for grantednBut still I tend to wander through your lifenAnd you were sleeping soudly in your bednYour drapes were silver sings; your shutters flynI drew the poison from the summer's daynAnd eased the fire out of your fevered skinnAnd moved in you and stood your soul to sailnAnd if you let me, I would move againnI've danced in sunlight strands of brother's hairnI've formed the final words before your deathnI've pitied you and plied your souls withinnGave blessing when you rose upon my breathnnAnd after all of this, I am amazednThat I am cursed far more than I am praised