At sinister places we stand
in a circle all dressed in black
by the poisoned cup of Bacchus
and the dead were now among us
I shall fear the light now
and by day in my coffin I shall rest
Aegrimonia in aevum nectae
as yesterday becomes tomorrow
the devouring of the week
in cryptic times, and then...
Ancient velvet covers the face
of the evening wine-red fog
the damnation of the soul
and yet, who wanders in solitude