in the spanish quarter her eyes fixed on the dim light passage as she awaits the coming hand of deceptions with her recital of whispers like a prayer she sweats openly to her its a pressure point at the breaking its a devils delight in the black heart of evil men so as the wick of her flame clings to its purpose as it burns true to pure as you knew it would you sit by her side wait out the hours forsake the dawn it never comes to this desolate place forsake all trust love hope they fled this desolate place stand for who you are stand for rights victory over wrong truth even if it means your death