Creaks and groans Scare my old bones. Shatters and clatters, And nothing else matters. Trickling blackness beams Or so it seems; What eerie bleak noises From dead old machinery Of winter’s sad choices In dripping crimson scenery. Deep down secret cellars The past will...
Storm wraiths cry, the night creeps in; Borders between worlds grow thin. Light of the sun shines soft and weak, Thoughts drift lost in grey clouds bleak. Bereft of scent, air crisp and sharp; Melodies trickle from heathen harp. A cloak of silence heals weary lands...
(N)Euer Senf – mittelscharf, wenn’s geht