The scarlet blanket falls from my acquiescence,
as your heart beat pounds out the rhythm of a thousand tortured drums.
You scream my name into the pitch black of the buried dead--
as I hide in their shadows.
Your voice catches me, the musty wind of a stolen season, aged and hollow.
Distance draws you near.
as your heart beat pounds out the rhythm of a thousand tortured drums.
You scream my name into the pitch black of the buried dead--
as I hide in their shadows.
Your voice catches me, the musty wind of a stolen season, aged and hollow.
Distance draws you near.
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