| Harsh lands lie before him
|
| As he struggles to keep his wit
|
| Malicious thoughts infecting-
|
| Crippling the morale of his spirit
|
| Shattered visions of the fallen begin to transpire.
|
| An awful nostalgia consumes him
|
| A crooked smile forms. |
| exalting the dead
|
| So began the fall of a mastermind
|
| Realizing as his mind falls to pieces
|
| They are but catalysts — parts of a puzzle to a different plan
|
| As the images surfaced, his virtue descends
|
| Living amongst those barbarians
|
| Though a fierce complication
|
| Their tact was that of a wounded creature
|
| And they were overrun
|
| «I remain in exile
|
| My bones grow weak like the sun
|
| Descending into the trees
|
| To end this daily affliction
|
| As winter shows its pallid face
|
| And the earth veiled with marbled frost
|
| Forsaken — this gradual madness consumes my mind
|
| Perdition in Tomis
|
| Undead armies of Tomis
|
| Commanded only by the presence of my absense
|
| Brought to life by the death of myself
|
| Risen to ease this torment
|
| Sacrilege; |
| The second chance to formulate a reason
|
| The relapse crucifixion forthwith to go into effect
|
| Casting him away; |
| instead insuring their demise
|
| I remain in exile
|
| My bones grow weak like the sun
|
| Descending into the trees
|
| To end this daily affliction
|
| As winter shows its pallid face
|
| And the earth veiled with marbled frost
|
| Forsaken — this gradual madness consumes my mind
|
| Perdition in Tomis
|
| Each day passing now I beg for some remorse
|
| Desperately grasping at what I feel to be my last bit of life
|
| But unlike the cycle of the attic
|
| I feel as though there is no recourse
|
| I’ve withered to nothing."
|
| «Save me from drowning, and death will be a blessing.»
|
| Hope for his designed tomb
|
| «Rescue my weary spirit from annihilation
|
| If one already lost may be un-lost» |