Saturday, September 22, 2007


We make daylight down in the dungeons.
Fumes of our Craft just turned gold.
In the cyclical hour to rejoice,what we make
Hear us clink glasses,sip our own blood?

Mesmerised by fear,we work through,
For Master of the crown,his sovereign rule.
And she watches away,her black eyes unblinking,
She toils away,but her wounds are yet to sink in.

And she sees...She sees..oh she sees...what she sees...

The fingers blue of tormented souls
Of dead soldiers still linger here.
Mirrors uncracked,thats forbidden here,
So Light can't reflect your fear.

Our golden brew is as good as the real,
Bask in its lustre,feel the heat on your palms.
The dark dungeon is nor dark,nor cold,anymore.
The daylights in our cauldrons will make us calm.

The Master always anticipates a betrayal,
He smiles,sadistically,for he knows us. 
She,with the sun fresh in her memory,
Looks upto the ceiling,where the sky should be.

And she screams...She screams..oh she screams...what she screams...

I want to see the darkness revealed,
In the light of the crusades,how heroes feel,
I want to find,a tower high,
That the creature called Fear can't ever climb.

And they work away,
Upto the oasis after Life.
To rise over their sorrow,
By forgetting Little Life.
They smile away,
Through the stench of sweat,
To overthrow fear,
By covering the wounds that bled.

Darling,dont you know how to scream,
Look under your bed.And scream!
Child,oh child,when we die,
Dont be like us,please,please.Cry!

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