• In the window sill, through the crusted glass; the beauty that never lasts.

    The sun setting, the moon with a harp; never crossing paths apart.

    Star-crossed, they vanquish the stars above.

    Tonight I await the holy dove.

    In Satan's coliseum I lay acting out all man's fears.

    His grasp is like stone, he breaks my will.

    It's a miracle I lay so still.

    Gruesome thoughts plague my head, shifting and yet unsaid.

    He sews my eyes, only letting me see threw the cracks.

    My mouth as well is stitched.

    Can anyone see the blood-spilled tears?

    Can anyone guess my fears?

    I can see yours, why can't you see mine?

    I see everything, and yet my lips are sewn shut.

    Am I the keeper of the night terrors?

    Am I being punished for past errors?