Testi The Little Deer - Great Cold Emptiness

The Little Deer

A dying fawn laughs
And a new night comes
To each their own, but I
Was led by the fleeting bliss of youth
A hearth lay empty
Cold and flickering
Waiting for a traveler to gather it
Up into his arms
The flight of those once made sacred
A waste of futile existence
Why tend to the flock if they all die anyways?
From the calmest days
Shall you lead an uneasy kayak through the harshest storms
And for you to rest only enrages her more
Who am I to ease my suffering?
To writhe in the snare
To carve marks into the bone
Shall only appease the hunter more
Or does it pity him, that he would starve without you