But the daybloom are blooming
and the moonglow shalt glow
For when two high poets
Get caught in imagination,
Like a net
They'll see those dead are no longer a threat
and the moonglow shalt glow
For when two high poets
Get caught in imagination,
Like a net
They'll see those dead are no longer a threat
there are no violets,
no life in this vault,
no hope in these dungeons.
My only companions:
the living dead.
My only dish:
dust, that leaves me unfed.