The willows moan now
And the sea is black upon its shores
And nightmares purge a blade of dreams
For death doesn’t knock...
...on open doors
And in the dying winds, revealed, unspoken memories
They’ve finally given in to the strength of their disease
And all is quiet...
And all is lost...
No hope repays the lender...
...who demanded such a cost
Copyright 2005 Stormcomin
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