What will you do, when he’s coming for you? Oh, Daphne.

What will you do?

He’s bright as the sun, nowhere to run. Oh, Daphne.

What will you do?

Your feet, strong but tired, running, running wild.

And he’s right behind you.

Oh, Daphne, oh, Daphne. There’s nothing left that you can do.

With his hands, sun warmed and bronze, he’ll pluck the blooms from your hair.

With his eyes, clouded by light, no shadows can save your body.

And when he’s done, the Earth will still turn.

Oh, Daphne, oh, Daphne.

The Sun finally sets, and your tears are but sweet sap.

Your brittle skin turned to bark, your hair to flowering leaves.

Your breath will cease, roots find reprieve, in the house of Gods.

Oh, Daphne.