Run beyond,
Shadow flames.
Run across,
The River Thames.
Stride the path,
Of the clouds above.
Shoot the arrows,
That cure me of love.
Turn away, Blood red fiend,
You hurt me too much.
Why I still trust you,
In matters of such.
Feel the strain,
Of blood and love.
Both have gone cold,
Black swan or Black Dove.
Sweet severed bliss,
Bleeding on my hands.
Standing beyond,
My adoring undead fans.
Turn away, Blood red fiend,
You hurt me too much.
Why I still trust you,
In matters of such.
Turn away, Blood red fiend,
You hurt me too much.
Why I still trust you,
In matters of such.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem