Bella Morte Where Shadows Lie
Sweeping winds of greyest passionFind the four who wander fatedWithin halls their scarlet laughterIs heard unknown from places shadedEyes are lined with black of midnightLips all touched in scarlet blissTattered velvet, lace and chainsWhat dead have known such grace as this?Here let us lay for this age has sung it's last dayUnder the full moon's watch(Black is the coffin in which our dreams lie)Silver remains of the time of our gloryStand where our temple fell(Black are the mirrors to which our fears fly). Pale hands flicker beneath the white lightsIn rhythm with the living darknessOthers follow void of meaningTo stand in shadows as if thoughtlessBoots are laced through shining eyeletsCobwebs line the greying hallThe dance goes on but pales without youAs winter turns to see the fallHere let us lay for this age as sung it's last daysUnder the full moon's watch(Black are the coffins in which our dreams lie)Silver remains of the time of our gloryStand where our temple fell(Black are the mirrors to which our fears fly).