Marred countenance of world unfold,
Stricken by terror, pales thy face.
Fear filled by night of raven's black,
Thy path tempt not the raven's flight.
Shieth thou from becoming rose,
Hear thou the Siren's song and weep!
Find no jocund morn waits for thee,
Becoming rose becomes no more.
Fatal gloss cast, alas, too late.
Thy tears flow red, hearlds night's death.
I mourn thee as thine essence flows,
A river forming of thine woes.
Thy gloss repealled, the form revealed,
How sparingly seen visage clean!
The song is Wasteland's Caress by Tristania. Enjoy.
