Hands mask tear stained scowl diffusing its sicken glare
The shudder of the hoary clouds are too grim to bear;
Never once spared a pitied gaze or kind caress
Disoriented as pain beats within its rotten chest;
The new day brings the ring of old shame
A new face cannot hide an ancient name;
Where has time fled amidst our dreadful morn,
Why has death abandoned us with bitter scorn?
Feel The shiver of the sobbing suns pain
Drink the echo of the widowed moons wane;
Never again to rest in hands of the keeper
Never to sleep in the embrace of the reaper.
Elegy's Overture 