The altar made of white marble
Covered with lies and weeds grown long before time
A palace to bring the sinful
The sunset of the mind
His eyes gleefully caressed the blade of his sword
The silver is to become red
In a palace to bring the sinful
The deathbed of a weary mind
Clocks, slowly ticking, slowly running out of time
Seconds, minutes, hours passing
His gaze frozen, dead, piercing and lone
The heart whispering with words of angst
\'She...needs...you\'
A flaming rage, the lowly tunes of suffering
He sang in soft tunes, his memory of love
He cried in soft tunes, her memory of love
The hilt of his sword suffocating
A dead hand\'s grip shall stay alive
And her voice still in his mind
He had brought prosperity, happiness to find
Yet he could never be the sun,
Saving her grace when cold made love
Not even the stars, watching silently from a far
He could never be the memory
His eyes tearfully caressed the blade of his sword
The silver is to become red
In a palace to leave the sinful
Absolution for guiltridden minds
She had smiled, he had laughed
Their hands made one, never to part?
His heart grinned and whispered
\'She...feels...you\'
A dying fire, the lowly tunes of remembering
\"Her hand has touched me
She has ventured into the mind
Never to find, never to find
Yet no equal to the blind
But still trying hard to see
The heart, the truth, the pain of me\"
The hilt of his sword breathing
A dead hand\'s grip shall stay alive
Yet her voice pleads him to live
And water the rose inside the mind
The dark brown pews,
The beautiful corpses of trees
Drenched with a coating of fear
Clothed with ignorance and admiration
Heavy boots tread down the isle
The steps toll bells of doom
A wedding, sieged, destroyed
And a second passion burning
Fixed eyes and steel met steel
The silver became red
Old scars bleeding, new wounds hurt
Grief strikes first, and then the mirth
Panic masked by dead stares
And she lies in the water
Life was born where death had scorned
The memory not fading
His eyes are dead, yet history lives
And the heart whispering in forgotten tongue
\'I...see...you...yearn\'
Down he falls, bereft from fire
Crawling lonesome through the mire
His eyes fixed on the cross, and begging
\"Water the rose inside the mind,
Never to find, never to find...\"
