The Dead

On this holy day as the dead doth now rise

The earth does now weep to the waning skylight

A chasm of the hollow

A fortune stained of blood

A light upon the blackest shadow

A frigid touch of dust

Upon this placid dome in the whispering breath of night

A silent life does fade in it's lonely cries of fright

A naked mound of frozen hope

A stilled desecration of lies

A fallen death upon the Unknown

A feeble gaze from unnamed life

Blood taints the morning horizon, a golden silhouette of unlife

The lost allure of heaven has died in the rot of the Crypt

Blood taints the morning horizon, a golden silhouette of unlife

The lost allure of heaven has died in the rot of the Crypt