Listen to me servants, dreamtime has came.
Derive from the soil, encroach and inflame.
Treacherous reverie impel mind to elude.
Embody the lust into lurid delude.
Ring of the temptation from the belfry of lost’
Onus of time - the ominous vice.
Hands of the Hopeless are tool for the Pure.
Lie of the Master feed on thrust of the Poor.
Words that unsaid inveigle the blind,
Omen of requital invokes to hide.
Town of flame that stand on the ash.
Once born Soul - here suffer as a Flesh.
December 26, 1996
wrt: Andrey Prudnikov
Necropolis
© Copyright: Андрей Прудников, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106120301181
Свидетельство о публикации №106120301181
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