The winter is cold But not as cold as a hand Covering your heart The moon is dead Like the light in your eyes Fading and gone Cast out over the hills Wandering forest and field Still no resolve when sorrow calls And silently takes you from here April showers Held up inside For weeks on end The moon is empty Memories have all Pa**ed you on by Medicine is slowly running out Your breath is shallow and frail The doctor arrives Closes your eyes Places two pennies in their place Places two pennies in their place Summer shadows are long The days collapse underneath This coldness I've known Is now my own Silent path to you, dear My own path to you, dear