I will sit in my throne, though it's long overgrown Am D Am D
With briar and morning glory Am D
If you come to me there, I'll braid leaves in your hair Am D Am D
And tell you my autumn-leaf story Am D

It's a story of candles, a story of roads Am D
Of travelling there and then back home again Am G E
It's a story of princes who turn in to toads Am D
A story of sea-water witches and pain Am D E

I recall well the grace of his unseeing face
In the days when he wooed me with kindness
There were hints there to see of the tyrant he'd be
But my loving partook of his blindness

His land still sleeps darkly, his black mountains loom
But my forest is softened by blossoms and bloom
His riders of nightmare still blow their old horns
But to Michael's black sky constellations are born

When my daughter broke free, I saw nothing for me
But to serve mercy's cup to his lost pawns
But the night, come what May, must at last yield to Daye
And his dark spell lies sundered in the dawn

My rank I will count as a sickness now cured
My love was a swamp whose foul waters run pure
My name's now unvarnished by titles it wore
And I'm free now from riding as Michael's bound whore

I will sit in my throne, though it's long overgrown
With briar and morning glory
If you come to me there, I'll braid leaves in your hair
And tell you my autumn-leaf story