Angel Of Virtue, Thou Art Blessed With Two Fretful Eyes Like Scattered Stars Melting Against A Slaughtered Sky. I Have Lost Count Of How Many Moons Have Shined Divine In Your Absence. A Thousand Crying Voices Drop Their Long Sleep Upon Me. I Wake To A Dream Of Universal Melancholy And Grotesque Enigmas, Hallowed And Shameful. My Blasphemous Birth Temporary Upon Withered Lips. Your Delicate Silvery Hands And Glassy Fingers Like Trembling Leaves Numb My Slumber.
Country
Ireland