|
how long had she been waiting there, |
|
behind her cold and dusty veil? |
|
her heart, still beating red and soft and warm, |
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her skin, left hanging off in threads. |
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tales of blood and tears, lie cold on her face, |
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her veins so blue, her heart so red and wild |
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and free. |
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how could he know he'd come too soon, |
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to look behind her ghostly veil? |
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and how could he have known he'd come too far, |
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beyond her cold and stoney walls? |
|
tales of blood and tears, lie cold on her face, |
|
her veins so blue, her heard so read and wild |
|
and free. |
