Sitting in my velvet throne, Staring at the brick-bound fire
Torched by my ingle,
The dog crawls humbly at my feet
Pipe in mouth, cigar in hand
Cancer is coming, coming
I feel her in my bones!
Death sits across the room,
He makes shivers in my soul,
His eyes on mine,
My eyes on him;
Watching, waiting, wanting
I pray for his kiss!
Shifting in my great red chair,
Sip my soup and tap my foot,
I cry and laugh at the broken mirror
That stained my floor with blood!
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
And all of the victims will wake yet again
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
Yet not to be victim to dreaming again
And all who see the moon and stars
Vanishing into the sky!
She who dreams of a thalassic place
He is coming to life so he may whisk her away!
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
Lay back, my dear, and I'll sing you a tale
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
I've weave you a blanket of romantic despair!
He who lays awake in the night!
She who cries out alone!
His eyes cold like fire,
Her heart burns like an undancing flame
She cries into the night,
He waits on the sunrise,
They're to me
The apricot haze of morning wavered through the trees as the sun crept into the sky. And, as daylight struck this gallant place, nightfall was bound to be approaching somewhere else. Dusk and dawn, as two could call it, were all at once with their fading reds and approaching blacks or blues.
"Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
And all of the victims will wake yet again-
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
Yet not to be victim to dreaming again~!"
The woman singing was short, stout even. Her fleshy body was concealed in a brown hemp skirt and a white shirt that came down as a v-neck and had circular sleeves, puffy and inviting like clouds. H