Dead Song

Sing your dead song for me,
for I want to hear the worst of all,
play our unfulfulled vows and cover me in shrouds,
strike every note full of contempt,
for this life of ours deserves more as it fades and whithers away,
whisper your song to my ears,
and I shall lay on the ground unquestioning our fears,
and during the crescendo I shall feel your dark nails on my flesh,
and our desires to wanton blooms as I caress delicately your wavy red hair.
Sing my dying nymph o0f mine,
show me our decadence crawling and growing within,
darkening our torn hearts,
poisoning our souls and whatever little is left from us both.
Strike those cords harder so our pain inside bursts as if a fountain,
make our eyes cry our sorrows and our shoulders carry our grief,
sing endlessly for reality seems to be dead
whilst decadence and sadness dance along for us to behold them,
beckoning us to join them,
just sing your dead song... for me... for you... for us...


RQ
Moscow
23/4/10
12.30am