In the swamp by the lakeside
In the leaden skies' unrest
A heart lay solely beating
At an eldritch behest
Listen them sing when the moon's ablaze!
Where sombre trees bow grandly upon dark gates of moss
He reached out for a secret that should have remained lost
...He hailed his grave
Heed this tale of him who heard the lunatic refrain
Now consumed by the black earth - never to be seen again
From his dying womb his foul remembrance crawled the firth
A roiling plague, his shadow thick - miasmal afterbirth
Black miasma over fields of red
Condemned to contain the virulent curse in him;
His asylum inside the lungs of townsmen
Black death to make them revel and sing
A hundred-voice hymn dying
Spawning from the water
Stirring from the spring of bones
Leaking from the cracks of earth
The pestilential fog enthroned
In the echoes of their dying chant
In the dirges of their souls nearing death
At the dawn of their new renaissance
Lowered lies the conqueror's wreath
Black death over fields of red
...And their chant goes on and on and on...

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS