Alas, Autumn... do not fear, my dearest

We are both misunderstood

Thou art the one who welcomes me

As I sweep through thy portals I shall now relieve thee



From thy colorful melancholy and sorrowful fatigue

From every word of betrayal

hangs upon an icicle of misery

a collection of tears of my past, now frozen

I mourn Man's false dreams

And the ones who think me a fool... shall lay before me,

bleeding red crystals upon my frigid smile...

into my wet, white grave

So I can touch their suffering yet feel no remorse

They pray to Summer... but they sacrifice unto me...