What is with the hung mans noose?
On ward hanging with the wind in the old oak tree.
Winds to knowing of no longer a breath of sweet forest air.
And of ones soul to stay here with no body of life to see but not be seen.
But of ones soul to stay here drifting in the calling winds of changing.
As if to step upon the block and jump, to my last breath, to my last wish, to my last love, to my last wish of life, as if to take the final leap.
Shall you take the final leap with me?
