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Whisper in the summer night,

I shut my eyes.

The door is creaking open.

Evil essence floats in...

There is the demon,

inviting his unholy self once again

to my bed.

Whisper in the darkened rooms,

shadows play along the walls,

reaching their grotesque height,

and laughing all the while.

My angel rests her

weary head,

while demons frolic in my bed.

Whisper of the demon one,

his smiles and coos that torture me,

the hands that roam all over me,

those dirty, nasty hands.

Wicked face and devil's eyes,

the hair as black as night,

oily skin and those

dirty, nasty hands.

Whisper of the dreaming angel,

so close but yet so far.

She sleeps alone,

but she does not know why

her bed has grown

so cold at night.

Her demon has run away.

Whisper of the undertaker,

a woman with the eyes of steel.

I tried to warn her,

let her know,

but she chopped off MY head instead,

her ears as deaf as

rocks.

Whisper of the jester boy,

who once was a good dear friend.

A smile upon his cackling face,

turned twisted and ugly,

and the foul words he sprayed

upon my frame only serve to madden me.

Whisper of the blinded one,

who closed her eyes

in vain.

She was blind, but now she sees.

She sees me,

and I do know,

why her spirit resides in me.

Whisper for the ageless one,

strong and true and bright.

There to watch my

severed head

roll into the guillotine's basket,

and crying her tormented tears,

as she picked it up and

dusted it off,

and held strong all the while.

Whisper of the dying one,

whose head dost lie alone.

I am the one,

whose dying now,

and see the light of Heaven

I never will,

for I have sinned and can't be mended,

broken and cannot be repaired.

I have known the poison embrace,

of those I wish to forget,

but your God will not

let me.

Whisper of the essences,

That mix and mingle true.

A web of thin and string like souls,

Sewn together to form this

twisted web in this wicked world.

A dream,

a dream,

ah, yes, a dream.

I dreamt of sovereigns saving me,

but in the end it was me.

The sky wolf moans,

his wings aflame,

and blood leaks from his eyes,

until even he has faded

into empty nothingness.

Witch woman, demon man,

you’re all the same to me.

You robbed me of my innocence.

And still, neither shows me a hint of mercy.

Haunting me to my grave.

But I will be the one to pull you down

into your tomb

where you’ll lay screaming and kicking and crying

and I will be the one

to shovel the last bit of dirt onto your

coffin.

You see,

I buried you in my mind a long time ago,

but somehow you’ve escaped from your grave,

and are after me like vampires,

thirsting for my blood.

Well, no more.

In reality you will lie

in those graves I will place you within

instead of in my mind.

Whisper of the death of you,

I will be your end.

Yes, I will be the one,

to come back from my grave and chop off

your lolling heads.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you.

Ah whisper of the falling darkness,

whisper of the bitter end...

Your bitter end.

Amen.