Rain. Menacing stormy vortex.
(Irksome rhythm I can't repel.)
Midnight tide. The aqua mortis
Swept our souls down to Hell.
Trails, misleading and elusive.
(Am I certain? Am I strong?)
In this place we are the сhosen,
Our two rights can't make a wrong.
The repose is stolen, hidden.
(Wasn't the Reaper grim enough?)
Pick Elysium or Eden -
I will breach the doors, my love.
Lead will rain instead of water
(No remorse, no time to mourn.)
Find salvation in the slaughter,
Waste your pity, smash your scorn!
Bloody letters, intermittent.
(Have the heavens gone insane?)
Here comes the blessed hitman
Bringing peace to quench all pain.
25.10.05
Painkiller
© Copyright: Дориан Лемэль, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106083000519
Свидетельство о публикации №106083000519
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