Colourful youth crowns the wooden king Songs of joy the birds do sing What lurks behind the fruit of bloom? Is it endless life or day of doom? Shaken by invisible hands they fall which given life before now crawl Scattered on the ground they lay patiently kings defenders fade away Fate revealed what once concealed Considered to be a mighty shield Bony hands which grab light tight Scary in the mist they look at night Roots deep down beneath forever last From above the seeds like clouds of dust Follows principle of nature's riddle But just a little - just a little What seems to be the field of battle Chaotic like the snake that rattles What could be the funeral chapel? Is it an apple - just an apple?