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Sweeping winds of greyest passion |
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Find the four who wander fated |
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Within halls their scarlet laughter |
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Is heard unknown from places shaded |
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Eyes are lined with black of midnight |
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Lips all touched in scarlet bliss |
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Tattered velvet, lace and chains |
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What dead have known such grace as this? |
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Here let us lay for this age has sung its last day |
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Under the full moon's watch (Black is the coffin in which our dreams lie) |
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Silver remains of the time of our glory |
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Stand where our temple fell (Black are the mirrors to which our fears fly) |
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Pale hands flicker beneath the white lights |
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In rhythm with the living darkness |
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Others follow void of meaning |
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To stand in shadows as if thoughtless |
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Boots are laced through shining eyelets |
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Cobwebs line the greying hall |
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The dance goes on but pales without you |
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As winter turns to see the fall |
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Here let us lay for this age as sung its last days |
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Under the full moon's watch (Black are the coffins in which our dreams lie) |
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Silver remains of the time of our glory |
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Stand where our temple fell (Black are the mirrors to which our fears fly) |
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Through warmest nights of starlit skies |
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My eyes must find another life |
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Where once we hoped to ever be |
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The onl ones who understood |
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We now must face the coldest truth |
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That precious little matters now |
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For what we felt forever breathes |
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Inside the silver by the sea |
