~ Of a Tomb and a Phantom ~

As the forest weeps for a thousand swans

As the smoke fills the sky
Far atop a hill so cold
he strives to breathe with a hatred low
And the phantom rides a miasma
Off the shores.

Bleak clouds of destruction feeding the hunger within
Faded away by the memories of a lie
A cranial lie!
A shining in the midst of a hope demised.

As the fire burns in a rain so old
The spirit dies seventh time in a row.

You ride the waves to the dark clouds above
With Insipid dreams and sullen glow
The space you craved in a moment hollow
A kill you made for a better morrow.

And a prayer for the silence hides in a tomb
You write on the stone and die alone
With a hope to live the prayer within
And to kill the phantom soul.