Espers. The Weed Tree. Dead King. Zeneszám

Time has got by
And I'm [??]
Take a dollar for the crows and
Throw coins in his beak

Sounds, slide of coin
Slight of name
Then I'll meet you at the back gate
And greet you just the same

Time to make sod
And we'll walk home
To where the frost of the dead king
Wear heavy on the plain

Long it's been said
That thou wert
Of a man-beast woman
And his lands are [beacons?]