when the paint grows darker still

i am just a weary singer

moving through this world of ills

hark the choir of predecessors

when the paint grows darker still

once i found a golden trumpet

in the mash of an old landfill

now i play for the spirits

when the paint grows darker still

winter waited in my garden

when the sun did refuse to shine

honeybees all in a slumber

skies filled up the sea

falling down on me

winter waited in my garden

when the sun did refuse to shine

honeybees are in a slumber

skies filled up the sea

falling down on me

see his eyes turn to stained glass

head to toe in a black roadkill

here i am for your judgement

when the paint grows darker still