The Wake — Cemetary

tragedy has spoken the wolves all gather around with sharpen teeth and a guilty yellow stare they wish me on my way

so cold inside this shell give me to the earth

the dreams that I deserted the passion I would not release the path I left untreaded the mask that I refused to wear existance left unnoticed desire in my bones so dry and silence in the virtue all so quiet - all so still

I can feel them watching feel the seconds die can hear them laughing from above they wish me on my way