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Description
The gentle curves and smooth, sweeping
Gloss of a black so close to weeping.
I can feel the breath of death on my skin,
Her sigh and sough, and the dark murmurs within.

The tresses fall as if from a great height
Trembling down. This is a hallowed night.
For what else should be accorded with such station,
But that time in which a life is met with devastation?

The lyrical beauty, the sweet sorrow.
Raven concepts for the lone before the morrow.
So in this pool of dark so pitchblack,
Throw back your head, scream back.

After all, the only one who holds their fate
Is the one who holds the black gloss of state,
So pull the trigger.

Description
The gentle curves and smooth, sweeping
Gloss of a black so close to weeping.
I can feel the breath of death on my skin,
Her sigh and sough, and the dark murmurs within.

The tresses fall as if from a great height
Trembling down. This is a hallowed night.
For what else should be accorded with such station,
But that time in which a life is met with devastation?

The lyrical beauty, the sweet sorrow.
Raven concepts for the lone before the morrow.
So in this pool of dark so pitchblack,
Throw back your head, scream back.

After all, the only one who holds their fate
Is the one who holds the black gloss of state,
So pull the trigger.