Dark Hill - Lebanon Hanover

Through the decadent streets

Some delicate fiends, float

From the shadows to the street light

Some faces of pale, unveil

So silent and still

I grab your scarlet hands

And i take you, and hold you

Hard;

We reach the top of this dark, dark hill

And my heart rattles

Against my ribs

A misty path with frowning trees

Whispering

They poke from view

Of an icy moon

And talks protrude

Of doom and gloom