They come from black depths,
Twisting and squirming...

It was late when I awoke
And she was lying there...

Spewed forth from the fires of industry
Volcanic river flows endlessly as...

The noose, it slowly swings
A harbinger of doom...

Love is gone. Is it fate?
Entangled in the dying thorns...

Snowflakes fall through the evergreens
She prances like a winter dryad...

The battlefield is now silent.
Too cold for crow or raven...