Through the dark woods, a scream erupts.
Time and time again, you've clenched shut your eyes,
and pulled forth your coverings.
Time and time again, you've tried to ignore,
And it's always been a chore.
Because out there in the swirling night,
Death howls.
It wants you,
It wants me,
And though we try,
We cannot deny,
The glee that's imprinted on it's shallow face as it searches for us.
Though you cannot see it,
You always know
That through the window,
Is a skull,
And you cannot ignore,
That the roar that sounds out in the night,
Is your name.
For it's calling,
Once for you,
Twice for me,
Because we've been dirty boys.
Boys who loved it.
Craved it.
Bekoned it near with the small dark whispers we emate.
The ones you forget when you awake.
Because we worship it it with our sounds,
With our acts,
And our beliefs.
And just when it cries our name,
We run.
For we fear it,
And it's dreaded touch,
It's gaze,
And the sounds that it emates,
The ones that sound awkwardly like our own.
And we cringe.
And here we stand,
Side by side,
The poisons of the world,
Flowing through our dead veins.
Side by side,
Touching the skull we've so often fled from,
Because,
Time and time again,
We've realized,
That before we are through,
We will find it,
And the glee that's on it's own face,
Will match our own,
And we will pass,
Laughter emating,
For we love it,
And worship it.
For when we pass,
It will live on.
The glee will remain,
And yet,
Still they will refrain,
from gazing into it's longing eyes.
We will sound out it's name,
As it calls ours,
And they will meet it.
And a new name will ring out, for it's work is never done.