Fountains flow on the edge of midnight
spraying obsidian water.
I see crows fly above me,
cawing as if I'm going to falter.

The night drops like a black veil.
In the distance I hear the song of a nightingale.
Warm wind in the background makes me feel cold
showing that no lost person can stay bold.

I could see you no more.
You turned into a ghost when I lost you,
my door couldn't open for somebody else.

The wild wind becomes mild
and no lust rises from dust.
History changes from a brief moment
as grief shrouds in mystery.

Without any fear it whispered in my ear.
My shadow warned me of a danger drawing near
headed right towards my rear.

It told me to stand and sing
while holding me under its wing
and to never be afraid of the ghost,
for it is only a victim very lost.