I only turned to see

What hand had set this inner field alight

Against the flame I see

The outline of a man against a night



Take back your sympathy

I do not need to drink that bitter stuff

I'd rather break the thread

That bound us close, and say we called a bluff



A casual match

In a very dry field

What could be

The season's yield?



My eyes have gone to coal

It's nothing I would be concerned about

Observe the moment

When the heat of love becomes the chill of doubt



A casual match

In a very dry field

Fire and ash

Is the season's yield



We look for a sign

But it is not revealed

Fire and ash is the

Season's yield