First the sadness starts,
then the memories rise up to great it
in their familiar, secret rendezvous -
inseparable as twins, or antique bookends
in a king's ancient parlor

What trust they must have - one to the other -
to make such a pact for all eternity -
to lock into a destiny thwarting any other

Is it fate that turns the two together,
that stirs the brew they drink, or could it
be a kind of dance - a waltz which, at a glance
would seem a lover's innocence, but which
so quietly steals time just to open Satan's gate