• If I trailed my hand in the river Lethe...
    what would become of me?
    In this place of places I lie,
    the rain that covers your face pouring outside.
    Floodwaters rising, rising, rising.
    Tree of trees,
    your roots run deep.
    Deep enough to save someone?
    When Death is dead,
    can life continue?
    When the Sun is without its Moon
    what then will become of the Earth?
    Floodwaters rising, rising.
    Go ahead, drown me.
    Tree of trees,
    are you going to allow this turning?
    What will become of the flowers
    when the meadow-valley is become a flood-plain?
    Cradled in strong arms beneath the waves
    Methinks it is not now so bad.
    Oh, but where have you gone, Moon?
    It seems only fitting to think,
    "As with seaward comings of Night, so must Sun drown."
    If I drowned in the river Lethe...
    what would become of me?
    It is the river Lethe...
    Honestly, would I remember if you answered me?