To walk a solemn path
As soothing rainfall whispers
And helps to clear the mind,
To hear a timeless lullaby
That the horn of sorrow plays

A maiden walked along with me,
And she always spoke to me,
A maiden named by suicide,
Always moving there beside me

A river flows forever beyond
To a place I cannot comprehend,
Yet I can see an open door
There on the river bed

I caught a scent upon the air,
The orchids were in bloom,
They were bleeding so very quietly,
Such an elegant affair,
Far to busy to notice me,
Falling into despair

A maiden sleeps within my bed
So pale and lifeless there,
Dreaming of her namer’s touch,
Fingers gliding through her hair
 
Wistful for a life once lost,
Morose and soaked with sin,
At dusk she trespassed my lonely eyes,
Too weak to overcome her fatal kiss;
Corroded with the rays of dawn
Unpure trepidation calls me from within.

Seek to find a life less lost
In a gilded sanctuary,
Where in a river dubbed as love (by some)
Is a dark and gothic throne,
Forged for those with hollow hearts
Locked in abeyant throes.

Orchid stems consume a monument,
Shrouding the epitaph inscribed.


"They found a maiden at his side,
An orchid in repose,
She sang a silent lullaby,
A lost and solemn tune,
This testament to how he failed,
This orchid and this stone."

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