Men are made From blood and bone
Like metals made from dust
Men are bound to die alone
Like metals bound to rust

Late, late, late night on the hill
The poet came a knocking on the shamans window sill
Help me my words don't visit anymore
The shaman he laughed picked a mouse up from the floor

They sat there in the dark whilst a mooty was prepared
From the blood of the mouse and an eagles head
Drink this said the shaman, it will calm you mind
I promise the words will flow from you like the sky flows rain

So the poet he drank, till the glass was bare
While outside a nightingale sang in the air
Thank you said the poet, may the gods bless your soul
Shook the old mans hand, walked out into the cold

Early the next morning as the sun began to rise
Screams rang out across the old diamond mines
My lover, My lover, My lover is dead
Next to his wife lay the poet In his bed

Said men are made from blood and bone
Like metals made from dust
Men are bound to die alone
Like metals bound to rust