Rigor Mortis
Cold and alone
In the vinyard he lies
Stained and all broken
The nightingale dies
Looking from your window
I can see the snow
Freezing cold
Cold and alone
In the vinyard he lies
Stained and all broken
The nightingale dies
Grinding to a halt
On stone cold gravel
Freeze alone
Turning away from the wasted hours
Turning away from the wasted years