Men are made From blood and bone
Like metals made from dust
Men are bound to die alone
Like metals bound to rust
Late, late, late night on the hill
The poet came a knocking on the shamans window sill
Help me my words don't visit anymore
The shaman he laughed picked a mouse up from the floor
They sat there in the dark whilst a mooty was prepared
From the blood of the mouse and an eagles head
Drink this said the shaman, it will calm you mind
I promise the words will flow from you like the sky flows rain
So the poet he drank, till the glass was bare
While outside a nightingale sang in the air
Thank you said the poet, may the gods bless your soul
Shook the old mans hand, walked out into the cold
Early the next morning as the sun began to rise
Screams rang out across the old diamond mines
My lover, My lover, My lover is dead
Next to his wife lay the poet In his bed
Said men are made from blood and bone
Like metals made from dust
Men are bound to die alone
Like metals bound to rust
After many years past and gone
And many tears cried
Still no one could console the poor old poets bride
For in this life or the next still she implored she would see her love once more
Then one day in the winter while the famines took a hold
Into a tavern walked a stranger from the cold
Said I'm looking for my lover
I've been away for many years
The poets widow was summoned from her tears
If it's you said the widow then where have you been
The demons said the stranger they took me from my sleep
They locked me in a cave put nails through my skull
I escaped with the help of this lone some ---
If it's you said the widow then spin me a line
The stranger cleared his throat
Looked deep into her eyes
Said men are made from blood and bone
Like metals made from dust
Men are bound to die alone
Like metals bound to rust
They drank and they danced late into the night
But the poets father was not so satisfied
Next morning the poet was awaked with a thud
As the police came to take samples of his blood
And as the results of the test came in
The poets father screamed I knew it wasn't him
Well a lonely executioner sharpened his blade
From doing god's work a living he made
And just before he raised his axe up too the birds
He asked the stranger do you have any last words
And the shaman he smiles up on the hill
His promise to the poet was fulfilled
And the widow she cries to the moon
And the nightingale sang her last tune
Said men are made from blood and bone
Like metals made from dust
Men are bound to die alone
Like metals bound to rust
