[VERSE: slow, whispered ethereal female vocals] Whispers in the mist, a passed love's call, No answer does it expect. None to give. It calls a cautionary tune, a somber letting through, "Don't follow me too soon. For me, the gone, please live." In the passing days of loss and futures now adrift, there comes sorrow's weight and twilight's pause at dark, the day brings an unending closure and remembrance with tomorrows approaching only shaded cold, lonely, dark. Hope lay a distant light at the maw that swallowed joy and living, the labored betrayal of moving on, moving forward, grieving, the mourning's sun brings with it no solace or warming hue, when from the ash of passing love the mind is never-leaving. The cold abates, the dawn relights with pyrrhic delight, from the second death of memories dulling with each day's passing, The living world comforts rejected, now reciprocate, bandying gentle bereavements to widows newly amassing. whispers whispers whispers in the mist
