The Home

another old one

I see the eve, the tempest and moon
the coming be too swift, leaving us too empty too soon
broken in the hate of the blind man's eyes
held on the tongue as the mute one dies

flee the presence of eternal sin
grant thee night and power within
hold out your hands
as death evokes our lands

bitter shades of elegance in the trees
blinding the righteous to their wicked disease
invoke the harmony of beautiful deceit
as all hope turns to ill conceit

burn out the heart of forgiven hate
now as the sun sets and his coming is late
bury the tomb of ill gotten flames
the tower be torn asunder He proclaims

enter the vault snared in flesh
its hunger inside bleeding afresh
consume the lines of angels' sorrow
consigned beneath an early barrow

mind not the dark, the dead, and the past
free not the heart, the mind, nor the soul
want not the hate, the love, and the shame
bear not the child, the demon, nor angel

His wait has all but come to an end
feeding the game as the fields they tend
twisting and yearning in the face of the light
what wicked tragedy He does blight

The dreams of the old rotting in waste
come to the village, the home of nightmares' taste
we welcome well the roaming stranger
heed not the voices that speak of danger
our home will become yours, forever and after
wreaking of infinite joy and laughter

but heed not the voices that speak of danger