| Sing of drowning in lakes of your eyes
|
| Calliope lightning the stars above that pine
|
| To you, my beloved concubine
|
| I gifted poems of brine
|
| You were Beatrix, muse of hellfire, spawn of love
|
| As the winds inflate anger
|
| And the storm is raging on
|
| Raven wings and magic runes
|
| I foresee your crucible
|
| Dancing heathen ancient rites
|
| At the light of the torches
|
| Reading fates into the stones
|
| I invoke pagan forces
|
| Leave my ashes to the wind
|
| Scatter my remains into the sea
|
| Leave them sink into Oblivion and on
|
| Warden of the bane
|
| Art is judgement without any court
|
| I was a jester tied at the stake
|
| Giving my heart away until it ached
|
| As the winds inflate anger
|
| And the storm is raging on
|
| Raven wings and magic runes
|
| I foresee your crucible
|
| Dancing heathen ancient rites
|
| At the light of the torches
|
| Reading fates into the stones
|
| I invoke pagan forces
|
| Leave my ashes to the wind
|
| Scatter my remains into the sea
|
| Leave them sink into Oblivion and on
|
| Way before the cost
|
| At your throne of apathy
|
| My poetry has died within my pain
|
| I will not embroider words for you, again
|
| Warden of the bane
|
| Leave my ashes to the wind
|
| Scatter my remains into the sea
|
| Leave them sink into Oblivion and on
|
| Way before the cost
|
| At your throne of apathy
|
| My poetry has died within my pain
|
| I will not embroider words for you, again
|
| Warden of the bane |