In the mood for a dark
I step back into the shadows
Of a heartbreaking world
Where, with their virility matured
For their boyish pride enough
To take God's name in vain,
The angels rule,
The white vampires serve,
And only innocent will pay the greatest price of all
With meaning of as much
As skittering of wind
Or lolling of the surf.

The employed weapons of Psy
Took the total control
Of the humans' godgiven halves.
In fear to be marked as flawed
The souls hide behind the laws and rules.
What torture of the truth!

Full of vicious madness
And rampant bloodlust
An uncompromising new evil
Shows its signs
As inexplicable storms
Darken the world's skyline.

At night,
With my daily garments and make-up undone,
Before I fall asleep
Inside of me
I hear the voice of the Gift of the Sun -
- 'For today over is the game.
Did I succeed in being used well?
Can you make the same claim?'

In my dream I see the iron towns,
As large as islands,
Drifting through the Celestial Waters
Down to earth
Where the scorpions devour on worms
With meaning of as much
As skittering of wind
Or lolling of the surf.