Hear the wind whisper that death is near.
Here the flames ignite the dreamland floor.
Massive panic drowns in silent black solitude.
The tear in your hand,
Your wings on the floor.
Desperate for salvation, coming of death.
Distant winter follows, empty pain’s embrace.
A coven of black roses litter the ground.
A halo lies broken,
Thy dreams tormented now.
Silent black lighthouse brightens underbliss,
Masquerading the dark, serenading the night,
The painting moves as sleep is broken.
Your vision of hell cast out of your slumber.