Tiny voices pierce the wind... calling out my name.
Trains and trams flying by the widows as she came.
Skirt tails flowing, the will she has is bent.
Gross the mud trail sliding the words about her, thick as Heaven sent.
Anger to strike the woe betide; the widow as she came.
Why the whispers spoken in the dead of night?
Cat-man calling, standing on your step...
And I am tired here of waiting,
Dreaming lost on the snake of sight.
Mother knows to ride the worm through the holes of time.
Where did she go? The words are lost feathers to rhyme.
Christian numbers, choke her life.
Thick the trail of the strike to the blow, seen for hours and a million miles.
Falling down, cascade the feathers, the heart of the widow is mine.
Why, why the whispers spoken in the dead of night?
Cat-woman calling, standing in your drive.
And here I am in the snow still waiting,
Voices lost, wandering to the cat-man's eye.
"Hush the voice that is mine to be calling.
The shells of time empty for rolling,
The Church, She burns, hands of glory.
Dripping sarcasm thick as the old man's lies.
Burning tears of sorrow depart, mine is widow's to give rise."
"Why the whispers deep in sleep?
Ride the serpent past the worm,
Through the halls of damask despair.
Though the cage, empty be;
My world adorns the souls bred of sin.
Tears falling along the silver lined dreams,
Cut with needles if addiction and
Choice is all we have left as the dead bird sings.
Bring in the people of silk trod spears,
The wound wherefore sheds light.
Breathe the deep murky hunger deep in the eyes of the
Lion's tearing at my skin,
Open up my belly and release the girl within."
"Follow the trail of the widow's beating heart for rest upon the acid rain.
Follow the chamber that leads to Sarcasm,
To the chasm, the abyss below.
Fall to find yourself, the lion inside breathing hungrily will show.
The heart torn from her open chest.
The widow screams no more."