Like a pillar of pure moonlight,
The shadow of the trees,
A silhouette of beauty,
A cold and brittle breeze,
It walks through foggy pastures,
Obscured by hills untamed.
Though life seem good and honest,
It knows life is to blame.
We search for life’s fulfillment,
We pray for what we lack.
But the only god who’ll grant that
Knows all hearts are naturally black.
It scours calmly through the tainted
Without a touch of shame,
For what can Death repent of
When mankind is like hell’s flame?