Cloak of Feathers - The Sword

And rode a mare of purest white

A silver chalice in her hand

A look of sadness in her eyes

A thing of beauty to behold

But a sorrow to possess

She’ll take all that you offer

Until there’s nothing left

Nothing left

Face hidden in shadow

Beneath a hood of quills

The pinions of her raiment

Conceal all her ills

Beneath her cloak of feathers

Lies a body soft and fine

Eyes of hazel green

Flowing hair as dark as wine

A thing of beauty to remember

But a sorrow to forget

She took all that I gave her

Till there was nothing left

Nothing left

Of owl and of raven

Of peacock and dove

Of swan and of sparrow

Woven with her love

Face hidden in shadow

Beneath a hood of quills

The pinions of her raiment

Conceal all her ills