The realms of ray
Admist the whisper,
of a dying day.
The horror creeps,
with shadow unleashed
With the sinister of,
death that leaps,
With the haunted
sceams of the death
that fleas.

The groomy night,
the shadows that,
are packed tight tonight,
with the opening
of coppice gate,
the weakening of eye,
with the bloody taste,
tonight.

Thy we die, The plume of souls,
with...