deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Walker Between the Trees

Cast the runes beneath the moon
Light cast upon the face of doom
I spied her

By the stream wailing and screams
Pierce the hours under the beams
Laced with death

　　What kind of terrible will
　　 � Sustains such a vile creature
　　 � �Such as I?

Arcades of psychedelic visions
Of kings and queens kneeling to a pawn
Lucid, hallucinate incisions
Leave the bodies rotting on the lawn

Faithless faces of dead races

The incense of nightshade and hemlock
To cover the smell of death renewed
The wolfsbane smolders around the clock
A secret mix to keep her subdued

Godless hearts longing for parts
Nine candles burning to black marks
Putrid scent

Pentagrams branded in damned
Flesh of Satyrs under boots of man
Slavery

　　What kind of terrible will
　　 � Imprisons such a beauty
　　 � Such as her?

　　 � �Hush, hush, my dear
　　 � Can you hear me as
　　 � I walk between the trees?
　　 � I see you there
　　 � In all your beauty
　　 � Bathing in the streams.�
　　
Pay the cost of ever frost
In my immortal kingdom of lost
Ancient times

Summer winds will never bend
The backs of wraiths bearing death head�s grin
Wreaths of frost

　　What kind of terrible will
　　 � Retains beauty sad and fair
� � �Such as us?

Trees mourn at the passing of seasons
But she remains statue-esque and true
She�s entrapped for personal reasons
Standing sentinel eons so cruel

Hallow guarding of lost godlings

Her eyes watching me over the years
Waiting for the gorgon spell to cease
My will stays strong, feeding on her fear
As I walk patient between the trees