whip_poor_will: (so glad to see you well)
2015-03-05 01:12 am
Entry tags:

♬ Days be Done

Days be Done

Days be done, away the sun
From the desert streets and sky
In the end, bones will rest
Allow the restless souls to lie
 
Dusken days lies in sight
Heaven’s full, dead birds in flight
Dying earth, await the end
Here comes the night
 
Days are dulled, as the crows are culled
How the belly of that beast did churn
His skin will flay, and soon turn gray
Unable to escape the Return
 
The day is done, to sleep everyone
You’re tired now, so far we’ve come
Bleeding sons, just shut your eyes
Take no heed to the lyrebird’s lies
 
Dead days bring, the sparrow sings
While perched above the suffering
Dying brood, unrest and unruly
Has cracked the veil so cruelly
 
Days be dead, the blackbird said
His word sends the ghosts to bed
In the end, his love forgotten
Her Revenant skin is rotten
 
Our time is done, goodbye white sun
Last whippoorwill across that sky
Do not fret, the dead will rest
And those who live may never die
 
Days are gone by the dead bird’s dawn
The world will stop but spin once slain
Beyond the pale is the shadow’s thin veil
Where the dead no longer feel pain
 
And the dead will meet again
All will meet again
whip_poor_will: (god's gonna cut you down)
2013-10-08 11:33 am
Entry tags:

♬ Lady of the Key

Lady of the Key

She guards the gate, she holds the key,
She glistens like a light.
When the day is done and I’m alone,
Phantoms come for me at night.

She’s at the gate, she keeps my key,
I hear her footsteps then—
They’re light and quiet like winter air,
She’s locked outside and won’t come in.

She floats so high, the shadows shift,
Whispers by the windowpane.
I see her eyes like sun-reflection,
The needle meets my vein.

She is so close, her dark wings flex,
Though she’s heard by me alone—
While the nurse deems this fool asleep,
Ignorant to what I have known.

Midnight comes, the hallways sigh,
The ward is silent but I’m awake.
Her company brings a chill to me,
Knowing she’s come for me to take.

The air is thin, made of frost,
Tonight she’s knocking at my door.
Soon she’ll come to tear it down,
And I know what’s in store.

The walls are thin, I hear her voice,
It’s soft and like a winter’s breath.
Though no one else can hear her speak,
I no longer feel alone in death.

The floorboards creak, her steps are soft,
She moves without a sound—
And it matters not how much I try,
No comfort in their words I found.

She guards the gate, she holds the key,
Now she’s opening my door.
Dark wide eyes fill the gap,
And fear chills me to the core.

She does not walk, she only drifts,
Hovering to the foot of my hospital bed—
And as her phantom wings take over me,
My open wound is bled.

She is the lady of the key,
A guardian at the Gate.
And with a final kiss farewell,
I fell unto my fate.

She guards the gate, she holds the scythe,
Tonight you’ll watch me die,
But Death is kind in a peculiar way,
For this is not goodbye.