End of the day at the end of the harvest With the sun goin down End of the row with last one behind us And the last sheaf is bound
Yet over and over, before sleep takes my eyes Over and over, i see the flash of the scythe - comin down
Light up a candle to see in the old way With the sun goin down Don't quite understand how it burns up a whole day Without making a sound
In some flinch of your shoulder, Some look in your eye I see the fear of disorder, The fear of the scythe - comin down
Sharp is the blade that can cut through the twilight With the sun going down It cuts through the days and the change in our own life Til your last comes around
Everything changes, everything dies In a teary reflection, i see the glint of the scythe…
