Fall moon, your cries are lost
Savage be the land
Where jewels of midnight, hide
Beyond the distant blue
Un-wrought silver gleams, red stained the embers ornaments
Dark gifts, for that prisoner of sorrow, adorn the chambers, of his castle of PAIN!
There he dwells, master, of the flesh throne, carved by the cunning, of ancient hands
Hollow curses, from some disciples burst, as desire is inflicted
Cruel and carnal!
Jagged lust, thrust upon the back of beasts
Ivory incisors, drag mouths to flesh in basic thirst, and the drums roll
As his eyes grow weak for some new suffering
Still slit with the venom of the wet wall
And the creature who wore thorns in her hair
A man with all that can be crushed, while wine and morality coils in the cup
When heather and hazel, burnt in the forests of his night
And her lips bled a deeper treachery, than a berry death
Now she crawls and claws and run with the animal of the Storm,
And he in his tyranny is alone
Rich decorum, cound never revive
The touch that made his body glass
Now as the earth creeps
And grows
And sleeps
She weeps
With banishment as her all
Here
All we observe and all we endure,
Is pure!