Vampyral
Creeps the night, void of Light, so begins
the search of mine
unholy delight;
Search in hope to pierce new skin, and
fill thou empty with
mine sin.
In silent stealth, creapt the The Raven, each
whose desires are of
the craven;
We pass cascades of midnights darkest, even
in these we have
no haven.
To the home, young princess sleeping, maiden
virgin, could be no more
than nine;
As here she lies now for my drinking, for 'pon
her neck 'tis where
I'll dine.
And fill her lacking now with wishes, she'll
not understand but
must fulfill;
For she is now of the Chosen, and to survive
must nightly
kill.
In another sense, survive it's not, void of
life in fact, death
in existence;
Wandering infinite in finite pieces, from which
there rests no
repentence.
And shall her Spirit then be stolen, placed in
a hole with no front back
or side;
And with other spirits lost in time, will she with
these forever
reside?
But ah, with twilight comes the dawning as the
midnight has come
to pass;
So unto the caverns of mine keeping, until sweet
dusk returns,
alas.