Alas, Autumn
Do not fear, my dearest
We are both misunderstood
Thou art the one who welcomes me
As I sweep through thy portals I shall now relieve thee

From thy colorful melancholy and sorrowful fatigue
From every word of betrayal
hangs upon an icicle of misery
a collection of tears of my past, now frozen
I mourn Man's false dreams
And the ones who think me a fool
Shall lay before me
bleeding red crystals upon my frigid smile
into my wet, white grave
So I can touch their suffering
Yet feel no remorse
They pray to Summer
But they sacrifice unto me...