Here I sit at the fire
Liquor's bitter flames warm my languid soul
Here I drink alone and remember
A graven life, the stain of her memory
In this cup, love's poison
For love is the poison of life
Tip
Life is a clay urn on the mantle
And I am shattered on the floor
Life is a clay urn on the mantle
And I am scattered on the floor
We are the wounds and the great cold death of the
earth. . .
Earth is
There lies a beauty behind forbidden wooden doors
A beauty so rare and pure, it would make human
eyes bleed and burn...
...She killed herself in the fall...
I am the unmaker, I bring death to the bea
When all is withered and torn
And all has perished and fallen
These great wooden doors shall remain closed. . .
When the heart is a grave filled with blood
And the soul is a cold and haunted shall of l
Through vast valleys I wonder
To the highest peaks
On pathways through a wild forgotten landscape
In search of God, in spite of man
'til the lost forsaken endless. . .
This is where I choose to tread
It was in this haunted place under a moonless
cloak of ebony
I was drawn to the glow of a young spiritess
weeping in the woods
The blackest ravens and ice-veiled boughs
Have spoken of you, goddess of
Like snowfall, you cry a silent storm
Your tears paint rivers on this oaken wall. . .
Amber nectar, misery ichor
. . .cascading in streams of hallowed form
For each stain, a forsaken shadow
You are th
