Ephel Duath
Ironical Communion (Amber)
Sweet Irony,
hits my tangled troubles, and frees this
blade
from the stranding line
Cynically slides,
Through dusty gemstone,
To offer a soft respite to my ethereal
plagues.
Let me cover with silence,
The figures around me:
A velvety sigh on the noisy stammering.
Grow to a physical essence,
And heavily walk on this living mosaic
Called pain...
I can hear the breath of every dowel:
My demons are waiting...
Conceal this fool architecture
From my (singing) conviction.
Blind my cyclopian, trifling dreads
And dethrone the useless days
From my infested eyes.
Irony, my care.
From Letras Mania