Willows weep from winds to swoon 

Pulling boughs from whence they loomed. 



Laughter seared sounds from afar, 

Lacking joy yet squalled with scars. 



Land where no one speaks out loud.. is ours. 



Banshees cry of grave impend 

Stories wander to their end. 



Lies a final resting place 

Seal our fate within it's gates. 



Land where no one speaks out loud.. awaits. 



Seal our fate within its gates 



Land where no one speaks out loud.. awaits