Alas, Autumn... do not fear, my dearest   We are both misunderstood   Thou art the one who welcomes me   As I sweep through thy portals I shall now relieve thee      From thy colorful melancholy and sorrowful fatigue   From every word of betrayal   hangs upon an icicle of misery   a collection of tears of my past, now frozen   I mourn Man's false dreams   And the ones who think me a fool... shall lay before me,   bleeding red crystals upon my frigid smile...   into my wet, white grave   So I can touch their suffering yet feel no remorse   They pray to Summer... but they sacrifice unto me...