In summer night's air kissed her hair still as death.
Like wolfs to a pack and moths to a flame we were drawn to the
madness just the same.
A thrill shared wreckless sings within the foolish
and prays apon the weak.
And so she saw a vision so very unclear.
Yerned to taste the demon yet never kiss the flame.
Faded tail light the ride always cast lighting from passions heat.
calm within the chaos her screams bleed through even still.
Night as backdrop velvet crushed my reason.
I closed the coffin and bid farewell.
So begins my killing season.
Jan 18, 2011
Jan 18, 2011 at 6:23 PM UTC
In summer night's air kissed her hair still as death.
Like wolfs to a pack and moths to a flame we were drawn to the
madness just the same.
A thrill shared wreckless sings within the foolish
and prays apon the weak.
And so she saw a vision so very unclear.
Yerned to taste the demon yet never kiss the flame.
Faded tail light the ride always cast lighting from passions heat.
calm within the chaos her screams bleed through even still.
Night as backdrop velvet crushed my reason.
I closed the coffin and bid farewell.
So begins my killing season.
From the graveside of Rebecca Lyn Whitmore