…And I gazed upon the ebonic darkness
The wicked whisper of the sunless days
Eclipsed by the wings of sartorial moons
And the frighted songs of evening’s haze
They rise and slumber over impious depths
Living inside the dreamers perceptions’ of fear
Those hearts ashamed to claim their hidden stones
As the hedge rock crumbles into all primordial spheres
Where the sorting sand can hear every silent whisper
Drifting profanely on the echoic compass eroding in time
Wondering to itself about the innate identity of forevermore
Alone inside every sacrilegious thorn of a siring tear…
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