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...