i saw them through the pines
in procession through the woods
they only walk on moss
their auras´ made of moths
they want to hold your hand
they want to reach inside
so deep inside deep inside
i saw them through the pines
i saw them through the pines
clouds have blocked the sun
birds and beast draw back
deep into the woods
their workings of their will has commenced
they want to hold your hand
they want to creep inside
so deep inside
deep deep deep inside
i saw them through the pines