The white wolves sings her lullaby as
She sleeps dreaming her crucifixion…
She dies in her dreams,
Fear cuddles her with death by piercing her
Last hope for salvation with a sword of a medieval
Knight, She dies a thousand times in the presence
Of a full moon that sucks her blood dry.
Forever gazing in a maze where lost souls feed
On the weak she looses face and falls in love
With the darkness of her heart,
She washes away the pain by walking in
The thorns of dead roses that masks the
World below.
As she goes a film of darkness chases the light in
A dying world without her,
Death kisses her goodbye as say her last
Prayers.
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