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The Carver

de Valkyrja

Incantations of past horrors again brought to life, whose eyes
Are the might of death, to reap and reap again. May it be in
Form of fright or a temptress dressed in lace - its true face
Is a gruesome abomination. Piercing the quiet, as every night
Before, with alluring voices. Landscapes left to rot behind its
Turned back. The true face and its purpose shown - open up
The burning eyes to aim once more. Behold your face in the
Mirror and for the first time see the flaws that lies within
You - fears and remorse. Is it a shadow behind you who put
All thought aside? Is a voice now calling louder than before?

For all the answers to your questions is death. For you
Are like the world - turning in a restless pace, awaiting
A storm to great to outlive. Each birth bears to fate
Each seed hold the will to rot. This does adapt to you as
Well - your blood is not running pure. Have in mind, you
Walk in denial - you are always being watched

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