Grey are my thoughts that writhe and twist
Formless and void as the grey mist
Blown by the wind n some sad autumn day.
Grey are the faces of the dead;
Grey, dull, and heavy is sepulchral lead;
And burnt out ash is grey.
Grey are my thoughts that writhe and twist
Formless and void as the grey mist
Blown by the wind n some sad autumn day.
Grey are the faces of the dead;
Grey, dull, and heavy is sepulchral lead;
And burnt out ash is grey.