She moved where the white roses withered Where the moon laid its hands on the floor And the bells in the high tower shivered Like they’d heard her breathing before There were stars in the cracks of the ceiling There was salt in the mouth of the flame There were prayers with their bright paint peeling There were gods who would not say her name And the night bent low Like it knew, like it knew Some flowers don’t grow They remember what grew Silver in the veil Storm behind the eyes Heaven tells the tale But heaven tells it twice Do not call her cruel Do not call her kind Some are turned to stone Some were stone inside Every shadow around her was living Every whisper had teeth of its own Every mirror was tired of forgiving Every garden was dreaming in bone And the brave came dressed up in the morning With a blade and a beautiful lie But the sea heard the shape of the warning And the shore would not open its eyes And the night bent low Like it knew, like it knew Some rivers don’t flow They are dragged into blue Silver in the veil Storm behind the eyes Heaven tells the tale But heaven tells it twice Do not call her cruel Do not call her kind Some are turned to stone Some were stone inside Who crowned her in thunder Who taught her to sting Who turned all her sorrow To a terrible ring Who left her with silence Who sharpened the dawn Who made her a warning Then called her the wrong Silver in the veil Storm behind the eyes Heaven tells the tale But heaven tells it twice Do not call her cruel Do not call her kind Some are turned to stone Some were stone inside When the temple is empty And the old marble weeps A field of cold faces Still blooms in her sleep
