The poet's voice lingers on

His words hang in the air

The ground you walk upon

Might as well not be there

Might as well not be there

I'll take you through my dreams

Out into the darkest morning

Past the blood filled streams

Into the garden of Jane Delawney

Into the garden now

Though the rose is fair

Don't pluck it as you pass

For a fire will consume your hair

And your eyes will turn to glass

Your eyes will turn to glass

In the willow's shade

Don't lie to hear it weep

For its tears of gold and jade

Will drown you as you sleep

Will drown you now

Jane Delawney had her dreams

That she never did discover

For the flow that feeds the stream

Is the life blood of her lover

Is the life blood of her lover

And the purifying beam

Of the sun will shine here never

While the spirit of her dream

In the garden lives forever

Lives forever now