The Orchard Songtext
von Naevus

Your happy fruits bore seeds of sorrow
And planted with regret
An orchard waiting on the morrow
More fruit to beget

A year I spent in tending
That sour little crop
And though my back was bending
It sweetened not a drop


Passing through the avenues
Of the dearly-new deceased
A draught brewed in sickness

I led you thence come springtime
The way was coarse and crooked
The salty fruit you found sublime
And knew your heart be wicked

I see you waiting at the threshold
Your movement is but slight
Making summons with your blindfold
Blot the cry of light


Passing through the avenues
Of the dearly-new deceased
A draught brewed in sickness