Nevermore may the nature of its kind,
Fro the land of serene and labyrinthine,
Forbid my Breath to the bridge of Cinvad
And in house of Sama, I drowned in dismal.
...
The Lea Of Evenescent
Nevermore may the nature of its kind,
Fro the land of serene and labyrinthine,
Forbid my Breath to the bridge of Cinvad
And in house of Sama, I drowned in dismal.
A house curtain of tension captured blur
Of the most bleak dawn of a dreamy theatre,
And Continuous as Oshhan lasts for that scene,
A sacred lay turns to atonal blare of a-need.
A torsion of surface with a bare untold
Of the myth Mortale then thou art for?
In this kingdom of plangent, perhaps,
Only the foul-fated nuntants may last.
In the mere tenor somewither the east winds
Tarry a thren'dy nev'r sung but sharp deceives
And of thee, sains but deep the visage in pride
That of the Lea of Evenescent, Death is but a Lie.