In the fullness of time, sleepwalking death at thy soul's door
Woken to life by a touch of the horrors of deeds
Death I am, that which thou lived in fear of but thy life has long awaited in love
Punctually present to take thy life's hand in marriage
Under that breath of thine I consume, I taste futile words of plea
If my words had a voice, thine ears would be deafened
Thy comprehension of life departed hurriedly, so did the mind
O deceased angels, drops of poison did plunge into the lake of thine angels
Though the days grew old with thee, never have you grown wiser
Thy soul was a ghost thou believed not in, but you did in the myths of comfort
What empyrean silence heard of thee shall lay alongside the steady silence of thy tomb.
Borrowed self shall sleep in death now unto life do thee part.
