Crystalmoors - Thy Serpent

I do profound the death

Inside which it weakens me

Not mine acting does it cause

…it is in fear

But blindness thou see in every mortal —

Dreamlike thought

Including in me

Beheaded I am

Greedly waiting besides thine grotesque being

For a saviour of this soul

Had it even ever been?

Thou all art but blind fruits

In mine created bowl;

Only feeling my hunger to thine flesh

As stars have come old

It Is a desolate night in me again

So I was told

Carried I did the shadow alone

To these crystalmoors

With a bare arm and drop of blood

…as I do recall

My reasons for vast profoundness

Are deepen far away

By the shimmering light of the «ill-face»

I do stand pale and tall…

Wandering about in darkness questioning myself

Was there ever a day at all?