[For the companion of this song, see Joy]

my spider stops just short of Hell
and keeps a careful look out for my self
_i raise one eye, unafraid,
__to see the sun set in the Lake
one last bold light in the darkened fire

Thy will be done and then i’m done
i raise the glass but all the wine has boiled away

the ghosts that gather by the road
avert their eyes and do as they were told
_though i can’t recall the scent
__the winter wind blew off the trees
i know there was some spice under the cold

things fall apart
the trees are lying, ashes, and the center will not hold

my spider stops just short of Hell
and keeps a careful look out for myself

on a central pit roasts constantine
on the pyres that the centuries since have seen
you can’t believe everything you read
you can’t be a slave to the fear that you’re freed

12 days of iron
_12 day of gold
__12 days of ghosts standing silent in the cold

and the waves rise to the sky