caught kissing the devil's lips, while you drank from the fountan of death
creeping around the dragon's lair, you have bled out your very last breath
once bitten, but twice you were poisoned by the polished, venomous knife
death hath dealt you a dirty hand, while possessing your pretty, innocent life
corruption, held in remembrance, like that of a fool's pride and a jester's prejudice
see how the shadows fight, like demons in the night, caressed by their injustice
frail, yet holding on to the midnight light, you cling to the fog that you must inhale
forget who you once were, before your devout voice turned grotesque and stale
now, with those white, pale hands reaching up toward the serpent's gift of hell
gain fruitless embroidery by the evil; the physical envy of all the angels who fell
remain a forgotten, vacant soul, for what really mattered in the first place was a lie
so to all who choose to drink the tainted wine, I damn thee farewell and goodbye
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