Withering into the Autumn Rot Lyrics

We, the kindling of this whittling onset.
What slumped husk doesn't know this war?
The foetor-scented fingertips spousing our kind,
With foliage and tendril, desiccation and spore.
The arboreal maw,
Dotting suns under teeth,
Qrotesque penult:
Forms bored beneath.
Born betrothed to this lover in the allure,
Twixt earth and bodies that succumb to its trysts,
Some scratch its tally with recalcitrant claws,
While others offer waters from their wrists.

And I find my plot in between each response,
As useful as the rot that these bowers ensconce...

Autumn-wont!

Heart I've drained over stone and bark,
To lend my days more than the mound where we depart...

Undone!
Carrion'd by the cruelty of wind,
My life led to rescind.

Every epitaph eventually fades,
The Nature of the place to disregard ours,
Foregone sehnsuchts unsuccored by...
Even a firmament of posthumous stars.
Thus the desperation veining...
Everything I touch with what this cadence conducts;
Thus the sun-gutted sky and cold of lichened goodbyes,
When I've unhearted myself and it's still not enough.

My worth returns: the dearth of earthward branches,
A forest floor my wasted make to claim.
I lie, my one use preluded with moss,
Drawn over crestfall as extinguished eyes,
Find the night burning my name...

Older-sown than my search,
Worthied in ageless flame.

The burdens of worth and of grace...
Breathe peace back to...
Autumn,
I become.

My heart slows its beat,
Drums with warmth replete...
Drums its gift to death.

Autumn!