Endless Cemetery 



Beneath a shawl of midnight silence 

A howling blackness 

Where all is remade in necromorphosis 

Asleep in human remains 



Worn from the stones 

Elegiac words 

Recounting hopes 

And forgotten lives 

For beneath them lies 

The dust of humans 

The dust of dreams 

The dust... 



A coach drawn by the blackest steeds 

As befits those who've passed from life 

Will bring you to where swarm the specters 

Of man's best-loved funerals 



The laws of flesh are here repealed: 

Vigor mortis is now on the way 

So count the black beads of your sorrow 

While you stammer your frightened prayers 



Readjust your vision, see the warp in the shadows... 

There's something wrong with the dark: 

Something that thrives on wretchedness and sorrow 

And makes the darkness crawl 



Rain-swelled clouds 

Blot out the sun 

Damned nor'easter 

Chilling the dark 



Branches, sticks 

Thistles, thorns 

Feathers, fur 

Mud and bones... 

Dying ground 



A lifeless thing of earthen heath 

Seeing soil from beneath 

Knows the need to summon flesh 

To its maw 



Cold blue lips frame (a) yard-wide grin 

That calls to flesh, to let it in 

And thus indulge its yearning 

Come the unDawn 



Roam the endless cemetery of what once was 

(where) the Allfeeling is never truly gone