The Wake - Cemetary



tragedy has spoken

the wolves all gather round

with sharpen teeth and a guilty yellow stare

they wish me on my way



so cold inside

give me to the earth



the dreams that i deserted

the passion i would not release

the path i left untreaded

the mask that i refuse to wear

existance left unnoted

desire my bones so dry

and silence in the virtue

all so quiet - all so still



i can feel them watching

feel the seconds die

i can hear them laughing from above

they wish me on my way



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