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