My mother used to tell me tales
Of midnight cries and raging gales...
It was another pay day,
and I was tired of Mr. Good bar...
You'll hear my satanic laughter,
You'll see my darkened eyes...
So many goodbyes, As they all disappear;
I think this has driven me into fear...
Such an elegant fashion,
Overflowing in their hate...
An orb of dark light carries her across the night...
Her beauty shining onto everything that might pass...
From the dark root sap
in the ancient forest grove...
Red floods your vision,
She sings alone...
The tree, it fell on all the people
Holding the young below them...
Her gentle movements,
Soft glides...
There was a girl who had the world,
She can live as he could live for her...
Night is my home and prison
searing,splattering...