(no subject)

[face_it_alone]

Standing still 'neath tree of yew,
Drawing drops of dormant dew.
See a phosphorescent loom
Flow in nighttime's deadly gloom.
Waiting for my breath to stop
On this graveyard mound's top.

I drank enough from sorrow chalice,
I've gained enough of mindless malice.
All I've got was my grim doom,
All my life I sniffed perfume
Of the reaper at the mow,
Who's taking every life He sow.

Reap the harvest at the ruins
Judging not by deeds or doings.
Foredoom me on endless shame,
Tell me there's no-one to blame.
All I know's that soon I'll die,
Only death will stop my cry.

Dig a tomb for me that's narrow,
Aspirated as an arrow.
Then you'll find not any force
To raise me 'till one rides pale horse.
Feel the weakness-growing fever,
Now I slowly slide to wither
Here in under ground below.
In the night there's afterglow,
It blinds with light my final sight,
In dying eyes it feels so bright,
It fills the havoc of my heart,
My desolated soul's depart.

Feel so heavy all my bones,
Soon hear not you endless moans.
Soon the worms my flesh would take,
Eat my heart to end the ache.
For every being in delusion
This is the logical conclusion.

So this is it. There's only silence
Awaits me on my deadly islands
Shrouded with the mist that white,
In the end I've lost my fight.
After all the tears and pains
Nothing but the yew remains.