The Poet and the Pendulum

The end.

The songwriter's dead.

The blade fell upon him

Taking him to the white lands

of empathica,

of innocence



The dreamer and the wine

Poet without a rhyme

A widow writer torn apart by chains of Hell

One last perfect verse

It's still the same old song

Oh Christ, how I hate what I have become

Take me home

Get away, run away, fly away

Lead me astray to dreamer's hideaway

I cannot cry 'cause the shoulder cries more

I cannot die, I, a whore for this cold world

Forgive me,

I have but two faces

One for the world,

One for God,

save me

I cannot cry 'cause the shoulder cries more

I cannot die, I, a whore for this cold world

My home was there and then, those meadows of heaven

Adventure-filled days

One with every smiling face

Please, no more words

Thoughts from a severed head

No more praise,

Tell me once my heart goes right

Take me home

Sparkle my scenery

With Turquoise waterfall

With beauty underneath

The ever free

Tuck me in beneath the blue

Beneath the Pain,

Beneath the rain

Goodnight kiss for a child in time

Swaying blade my lullaby

On the shore we sat and hoped

Under the same pale moon

Whose guiding light chose you,

Chose you all

"I'm afraid, I'm so afraid.

being raped, again and again, and again

I know I will die alone

but loved.

You live long enough to hear the sounds of guns,

Long enough to find yourself screaming every night,

Live long enough to see your friends betray you.

For years I've been strapped unto this altar.

Now I only have three minutes and counting.

I just wish the tide would catch me first and give me

a death I always longed for."

2nd robber to the right of Christ

Cut in half - infanticide

The world will rejoice today

As the crows feast on the rotting poet

Everyone must bury their own

No pack to bury the heart of stone

Now he`s home in hell, serves him well

Slain by the bell, tolling for his farewell

The morning dawned upon his altar

Remains of the dark passion play

Performed by his friends without shame

Spitting on his grave as they came

"Today, in the year of our Lord, 2005

Tuomas was called from the cares of the world

He stopped crying at the end of each beautiful day.

The music he wrote had too long been without silence.

He was found naked and dead,

With a smile in his face, a pen and 1000 pages of erased text."

Save me

Be still, my son

You`re home

Oh when did you become so cold?

The blade will keep on descending

All you need is to feel my love

Search for beauty, find your shore

Try to save them all, bleed no more

You have such oceans within

In the end, I will always love you

The beginning.