Rigor Mortis

Cold and alone
In the vineyard he lies
Stained and all broken
The nightingale dies
Look on from your window
I can't see you though
Freezing cold

Cold and alone
In the vineyard he lies
Stained and all broken
The nightingale dies
Grinding to a halt
On stone cold gravel
Freeze and alone

Turning away from the wasted hours
Turning away from the wasted years
Turning away from the wasted hours
Turning away from the wasted years