It is in the gusting breeze
under dust-filled hazy skies,
in the fever pitch of chaos
that all sanity defies,
that a menacing cold darkness
a long shadow now imparts,
bringing home the fear of losing
a piece of this breaking heart.
It’s the hounds of hell that wrote,
down my spine in blood that’s red,
with their nails a word of warning
as towards me they have sped...
Now I pray my tears of love
wash away their cold intent,
'cause I can't release this piece,
that the Gods to me have lent.