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

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

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

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

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

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

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