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The Vision Bleak
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The Whine of the Cemetery Hound
Forgotten and forlorn, graveyard corridors.
Remains with mold adorn, voiceless orators.
Been haunting here so long.
Observing everything decompose.
Tombstones that sink into the ground,
until they are all gone.
Assimilating stillness into grave poetry.
In these vaults so lightless, being home to me.
This is my kingdom!
Reich of the dead!
Where shapes sepulchral,
in patience outspread.
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The Quietus, the fall!
O' ruin and decay.
Ash and dust, earth and stone!
O' gray pits of dismay.
Time has no sense in the realm of the dead.
Where silver-tonqued souls are quietly met.
This is my kingdom!
Reich of the dead!
Shrouded in myth,
the idle imbed.
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