Goth_ben
December 2nd, 2007, 09:23 AM
" The best laid plans end in tragedy"
Into the night the horses ride,
startled by the unknown aggresor
An so soon the moon,
the glitering gem,
smeared black as the crows rise.
The dog, the hound, the loyal mut,
the wound in his side still fresh;
lies still, lies cold with the man at his side,
the man who does what is best.
He had to shoot or the dog would bark
and ruine his beautiful plan,
to take the girl, a girl once mine,
not now, although i digress.
The house on the hill he looks up to see,
to the windows, still open like eyes;
the girl will be there, the lovely lass,
the tartan still on her chest.
Oh how he does wish that he could have
the pride to take it off her,
to sample her sent for one last dance
in flickering candle light.
But no, not now he must march on,
with his heart black with the night.
To the door he walks,
silent and still,
her father, the drunk, can't know.
so from him, he takes, the key to his lass;
to the jewel of the moonlit night.
Up, up,up he climbs the stairs,
the mountain that he must tread.
Oh the door, the door so close, so near with just one push he can open the gap.
She turns she screams!
Why you? Not you!
As he tightens his grip on her neck.
She tries, she tries, and tries again.
Too strong, she must give in.
And so she flies, away from herself
up to Nevermore Land.
The dead are dead
the deeds are done and so too does he fly.
with the knife to his neck,
he sinks to the floor,
to the furnace where he belongs.
Into the night the horses ride,
startled by the unknown aggresor
An so soon the moon,
the glitering gem,
smeared black as the crows rise.
The dog, the hound, the loyal mut,
the wound in his side still fresh;
lies still, lies cold with the man at his side,
the man who does what is best.
He had to shoot or the dog would bark
and ruine his beautiful plan,
to take the girl, a girl once mine,
not now, although i digress.
The house on the hill he looks up to see,
to the windows, still open like eyes;
the girl will be there, the lovely lass,
the tartan still on her chest.
Oh how he does wish that he could have
the pride to take it off her,
to sample her sent for one last dance
in flickering candle light.
But no, not now he must march on,
with his heart black with the night.
To the door he walks,
silent and still,
her father, the drunk, can't know.
so from him, he takes, the key to his lass;
to the jewel of the moonlit night.
Up, up,up he climbs the stairs,
the mountain that he must tread.
Oh the door, the door so close, so near with just one push he can open the gap.
She turns she screams!
Why you? Not you!
As he tightens his grip on her neck.
She tries, she tries, and tries again.
Too strong, she must give in.
And so she flies, away from herself
up to Nevermore Land.
The dead are dead
the deeds are done and so too does he fly.
with the knife to his neck,
he sinks to the floor,
to the furnace where he belongs.