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