Theatre Of Ice Regions Of The Night
By crookend moon and waining starlight In the blood-red thickening twilight I find myself upon a path bathed in gloom That has no end except the tomb With eyes cast upward I'll give no thought of hell But if there are gods are there not devils as well Hiding somewhere in the flickering screens That fill my mind like erotic dreams Forget not the legends of old The stories of hell that your elders have told For they are without a doubt all quite real There is a devil and your soul he will steal I lay my brain before the flickering screen And shudder as I watch the silent screams In the distance hear the monsters call They're searching now for living dolls I search for a place amongst the thorns to pray Perchance to contemplate the dying of the day But there no solace for me to find For I am nothing but ruins of a mind Forget not the legends of old The stories of hell that your elders have told For they are without a doubt all quite real There is a devil and your soul he will steal ------------------------------------------------------
