I want it all but you WON'T
hear me
or catch my
Dark the days that beckon me throughout the Northland country
Hitherto great lamentaions consume us Garland feigning on the
crowns
Laser boy I'm called the one who makes and creates
Fairest and majestic kind draped in royalty and prose Mountains
My love my love are words you used to say
I get a sugar rush
Thinking of you too much
I get
Hear the song of saints forsook by the dark rule
When we were so young and full of life The
Grim nor gale shall hinder clove or heather Ghouls nor
Sadness sings through daunting hours The cloaks of yarn cover
Butchered to be left in parts
Disregard, labeled odd
Brain preserved in
A page of life torn out
Of which cannot be found
From
it's overcast and lovely still
the apple trees on distant hills
are
Minus blood I'm still not you
Multiplied you are not so
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