Title from Apparat's "Song Of Los"
"I just want to slide across/ I am trying to get lost/ I just want to hear you talk one more time before we stop.."
The wait kills him, slowly, painfully slowly.
His voice is lost, he doesn't speak anymore.
Because he is dead and the wait kills him slowly.
His voice is gone and he stops doing magic.
He stays like an old man, because that's what he truly is:
old bones and old hands and old eyes that are tired of crying.
He walks alone and thinks of his king, of a world in which he returns and he is whole again.
He stops at the lake, whispering things at the wind,
love songs, cries for help, but no one listens.
Because he's lost his voice, his magic, his soul.
And the wait kills him slowly.
His home is the grass and the fresh air in the morning,
his roof, the stars above his head that once watch him in a time which held his happiness.
The wait kills him but he cannot die,
and he loses his voice, slowly, painfully slowly.
Until the day arrives and he feels it in his core,
and the words are loud, clear and full of joy.
"Arthur" he says, "Arthur" he cries.
And the wait ends, for now.