Dirge Of Lethe

A forlorn soul, is trapped in the River of Lethe.

Those hymns of Elysium shall not

Be heard upon my dim desolation,

And those whims of my surcease

Shall drown my days of happiness.

Within a Plutonian shade of Hades

Consuming my soul in my thralldom

Of an amaranthine curse I dread then

Haunting me with no mortal leniency.

O mighty Zeus, wherefore hast thou 

Condemn'd me to the river of Lethe,

For my spirits yearns for my freedom,

And the rivers of Poisedon shall open.

I shall not make obeisance to thee,

Till thou hast heard my drear clamour

Of anguish and vengeance I scream,

Onto the mighty mount of Olympus. 

I shall be awaiting the ferry of Cairon,

To lead me through the nothingness,

And onto the nymphs of the ash tree

Where a heavy sorrow shall fade away.

I implore but one wish that I mourn, 

For my days within a marsh to be rid 

Of an autolycan brume of immurement,

That cast'd me with the dirge of Lethe.